


The Not So Odd Couple

by twowritehands



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Ace Lives, Also Barb isn't a lesbian, Alternate Universe, Asexuality Spectrum, Barb Didn't Die, Barb Lived AU, Eventual Jonathan/Barb, F/M, Formerly known as Barb AU, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: Wherein Jonathan saw the monster that night by the pool, ran out of the bushes, and saved Barb's life.When he ends up taking her to his house, they find a friendship they never knew they always needed.They work together to find Will and kill the monster, all the while becoming more and more important to one another.





	1. The Edge of the Pool

**Author's Note:**

> Formally had the HORRIBLE (non) title Barb AU
> 
> New title by Levicorpyutani (love ya!)
> 
> This is looking like it is going to be long, but you can expect regular-ish updates!

Music from inside Steve’s house sent a low bass beat pulse into the night. The cold air stirred dark trees overhead. Watching steam rise from the heated water, Barb dangled her toes in the pool. She kept scoffing and shaking her head. Upstairs, Nancy was making a _huge_ mistake. And with Steve Harrington of all jerks.

Sure, he was good-looking, but...whatever. Barb wasn't even mad anymore (ok, she was plenty mad, but in a resigned kind of way.) Any minute now, Nancy would come back downstairs, feeling differently about her choices and in need of a friend. Barb hoped it would be soon. _Come on, Nance,_ she mentally willed her best friend to come to her senses fast; they were passed curfew here.

When Barb had convinced her folks to let her leave homeschooling for public high school, she had initially believed herself to have nothing in common with any of the neanderthal boys and materiel-beauty-obsessed girls. Meeting Nancy Wheeler in freshman English composition had been a turning point in Barb's teenaged experience. Some girls could be gorgeous _and_ smart, social _as well as_ academically driven. It had given Barb hope. The best part was how Nancy never asked Barb to change.

Well, until now. Lying to her folks. An unsupervised party at a boy’s house. Chugging beer. Barb had a painful suspicion that she was losing Nancy. Hell, that she probably lost her already. _Go home, Barb. I’m fine._

With another scoff and an eye roll, Barb sloshed her toes in the warm water and told herself to wait as long as it took. Maybe Nancy Wheeler ditched friends at the drop of a hat, but not Barbara Holland. Whether Nancy wanted her here or not, she would stay to make sure her friend got home safely from this stupid party.

The cut on her thumb throbbed painfully and she examined the bandage. Blood had already soaked through it, _great_. Hearing a loud rustle from the bushes startled her. A low and bizarre gurgle-growl from directly behind was even more frightening.

Barb jumped at the sounds, causing the diving board under her to wobble which disrupted her balance. “LOOK OUT!” a voice shouted from the direction of the rustling. She heard that strange clicking snarl and running footsteps. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a large circular maw of Teeth bearing down on her. Fear polluted her bloodstream thick enough to stop her heart, and she flung herself sideways into the water.

She hit the surface awkwardly. Her glasses drifted to her forehead, her thumb stung, her heavy winter clothes soaked through and dragged her to the bottom. She kicked to the surface, gasping for breath, and straightened her glasses. At the edge of the pool, a tall, thin beast with trunk-like legs paced back and forth. It swiped at her with long pale arms ending in sharp talons. It's head was nothing but a mouth fanned open like a sick flower and lined with teeth. It snarled and spit at her.

Barb tried to scream, but the chlorine water still choking her made that impossible. Almost the moment she laid eyes on the thing, a dark figure came barreling out of the woods and tackled it straight into the water.

A thunderous splash almost drowned Barb again, sending a wave over her head. She swam for her life to the edge of the pool. Behind her, she heard the gurgling, choked wail of a drowning animal. The large thing with teeth thrashed for one second and then vanished. Nothing remained but the disturbed water to prove it was ever even there. Barb clung to the cement edge, crying.

A moment later, the smaller dark figure shot to the surface. He gasped loudly for breath, and slung sopping wet hair out of his face, choking and gagging.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still spitting up water.

“What on earth _was that thing_??” Barb croaked. The boy swam to the edge and hauled himself out, then offered her a hand. Barb clambered out of the water and to her feet, beginning to shake in the cold November air.

She placed the boy’s face, then. Jonathan Byers. It made about as much sense as the faceless maw-headed beast.

“I don't know what the hell it was,” he said, dark eyes still locked on the water where it had vanished. “Or where it _went.”_ He shivered and looked all around. One long finger jutted into the woods. “I saw it come from o-over there, and, and it started to get you so I just--charged it.”

“Let's go,” she said. Her bare feet had been taking half steps backwards since she got her balance. She pulled his arm towards the sliding glass door of the Harrington's house.

He planted his feet, “No, my car is this way.” He motioned towards the woods.

“We don't know where that thing is!” Barb yelped under her breath. She heaved on his arm, dragging him towards the house. Just then came the sound of girl giggles from inside rising over the loud music and another chorus of “ _chug chug chug_!” from Tommy H and Carol. Even having just almost drowned while narrowly escaping digestion inside a freak alien monster, Barb rolled her eyes.

“I'll take my chances with that Thing,” Jonathan said quietly with a smirk, shaking his arm from her hold and walking towards the dark woods. Drenched and barefoot, Barb fell after him several steps, shivering.

“Wait! Are you _crazy_?!”

He ignored her completely, walking quickly into the dark, hunched over in the bitter cold. Before she knew it she was racing after him, stepping out of the glow of Harrington’s pool lights and into the night of the unknown woods. Twigs and leaves crunched under her bare frozen feet.

“You can't just leave me!”

“Go inside,” he ordered. Barb, falling in step with him, harrumphed but before she could form a comeback about taking orders from weird boys jumping out of bushes, a snap of twigs made them both stop and whirl, clinging to one another's sodden clothes.

“Shit!” Jonathan breathed as Barb squeaked with trepidation and clung to Jonathan. Was that _thing_ back? Another twig snapped, closer by in the dark underbrush, and with that sound, like the gunshot of a race, they were running. Barb had no earthly idea where they were going, but Jonathan Byers had hold of her hand, and he seemed to know the way.

Soon enough he scrambled up an embankment and she followed him, dodging under-- _police tape_?--and colliding into the cold metal of an old gray boxy car. Barb’s heart soared at the sight of the car and the road. Jonathan opened the door for her and literally shoved her in before scrambling around to the driver's side.

The urgency bled from them as soon as they were both in the car with the doors locked and the engine on. His headlights washed the shoulder of the road in an illusion of safety. Barb couldn't feel her face or hands or feet and realized her nose ran when she sniffed wetly.

Jonathan, also shaking with violent shivers, flipped on the heaters before pulling out onto the road. “My house is... just around the bend up here,” he said stiltedly with clattering teeth. “We can. Get warm. Before. We get. Hypo. Thermia.”

Barb was too cold to argue. She had uncles who had lost toes to frostbite and the very real threat of it clicked neatly into her scrambled mind. She had run all this way _totally barefoot_. Her shoes would be at the bottom of Steve Harrington’s pool. Barb’s mind processed this with a sluggish kind of surprise. What in the world had possessed her to run through the dark woods barefoot in November with Jonathan Byers?

That monster. Oh God. Her throat closed at the thought of that thing. Honestly, anything to happen after it was completely trivial. No shoes, big deal. Jonathan Byers? Why not. Get in his car? Makes sense. Go to his house? Might as well.

The very _existence_ of something like that Thing put the world on its head.

At the end of a long unpaved lane, Jonathan parked in an overgrown yard in front of a small rundown little house. This was very nearly all the way out at the quarry--Barb was rarely on this side of town. (Okay never.)

She followed him quickly into the dark house, grateful to step through into some warmth. She coughed a little at the potent smell of cigarettes.

“Oh my god,” she said after a few seconds of dripping there in Jonathan Byers’ living room. She looked over at the guy. “Did that just happen?”

He kept his chin close to his chest and glanced at her. “Yeah,” he puffed. They stood there for an awkward beat, dripping on the wood floor. In a few strides, Jonathan reached a disorderly couch where he plucked up a blanket and shook it out before handing it over to her. “Sorry, might smell like dog,” he huffed.

Barb took the blanket gratefully. She realized introductions were in order. “Jonathan Byers, right?”

Water dripping from the ends of his dark hair, he shrugged out of his sodden coat. “You're--Barbra Something.”

She grinned. “Holland.”

He blushed a little and seemed unable to fully look at her. “I--I'm not good with names. Or just… people in general.”

Barb smiled, raising an eyebrow. “You're pretty good at saving them,” she said. This only made him blush more and dimples showed up in his cheeks. “I'm serious! I think I'd be _dead_ right now if you hadn't--what were you even doing out there--were you hunting that thing?”

“No,” he said, then puffed with laughter again, stepping out of his wet shoes. This time he really looked at her. “Do I look like a monster hunter to you?”

Barb considered the guy who easily held the creepiest reputation in school. “Kinda. Yeah.”

He laughed, low eyebrows jumping high. “Okay then.”

Barb waited but Jonathan just stood there shivering and dripping and not looking at her.

“So what _were_ you doing?” she was forced to asked again. Jonathan shot her a furtive glance and drifted toward a hallway. She fell into step with him. He looked down at the camera hanging from his neck and swore, shaking water from it futility. “Oh _man_ ,” he pained. “It's ruined!”

Her forehead wrinkled and her voice went skeptical. “You were taking pictures? In the _dark_?”

“I was looking for my brother,” he snapped, reaching a door in the hall and shoving it open, flicking on the light. A bathroom. “He’s missing in case you haven't heard. The cops found his bike in those woods. I followed the sounds of the party and--and--”

“Just watched until a monster tried to eat me?” the skepticism in her voice couldn't be helped.

A thud and growl behind her-- something brushed the back of her knees. Barb gave a half shout, jumping back and crashing into the bathroom door, grabbing her heart as a dog darted under her legs and jumped all over Jonathan.

“Sorry!” He cried, shoving the dog down, “Sorry! He’s not much of a guard dog. Go, go away!” He said to the happy mut, shoving him down again. Barb had started to smile at the wiry furred dog so eager to kiss Jonathan all over the face.

“Jonathan?” A groggy voice asked from down the hall.

All at once the boy froze. His eyes went round, and he shot Barb a panicked look. Barb stayed behind in the bathroom as he excused himself and dunked down the hall to a door--one with a sign on it like a little boy’s room. “Mom?” He asked, stopping by the closed door, listening, and then cracking it. He peeked into the dark room and then closed the door gently.

“She’s asleep,” he breathed. The fact seemed to please him. Barb hadn't forgotten that she had stepped into a house that was, literally, the center of Hawkins's latest tragedy. A missing boy.

She grimaced at the thought of what his mother must be going through. “How's she doing?”

“It’s hard for her,” Jonathan hedged without making eye contact, and Barb felt like her question had been an unwelcomed prying one and she wanted to apologize. He slouched in front of the bathroom sink, picking up the camera from around his neck once more with a quiet swear.

The dog sat at Barbara’s feet, and she appreciated the warm little body near her toes. Between it and the blanket and the general warmth of the house, her only discomfort was being soaking wet. “Okay,” she said with an air of business. “We need to figure out what that thing was and where it went and--”

“I had a picture of it,” he said mournfully to the ruined camera in his hands. “I saw it through the lens first.”

Barb looked at the Kodak and nodded curtly. “Then we need to get another one.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jonathan said, flipping open a small compartment that dropped water on the porcelain. “This thing cost two paychecks.”

“No, I have a camera,” Barb waved a hand. “I mean we need another _picture_.”

His jaw dropped with an audible gust of air. “You want to go after it?”

Setting her jaw, Barbara knew it was nuts but she also knew what was right. “ _No one_ is going to believe us if we don't have photographic evidence.”

He looked unconvinced. Barb dragged fingers across her glasses like windshield wipers to clear the droplets. “Look. The cops are searching for your brother in woods where a Thing with Teeth is hunting people. They need to catch it and cut it open, like a shark _._ Otherwise, they'll start following leads with sex offenders and just get further from the truth.”

“What truth?” Jonathan cried, going paler than ever. He almost collapsed on the sink, “You think it _ate_ Will?”

Barb felt her heart twist at the edge of pain in his voice. That sound coupled with his drowned cat appearance made her feel worse. She went a little breathless, unable to even imagine losing one of her brothers. “I don't know….but don't you want to _know_ one way or the other?”

The dog panted obliviously into the silence of the little bathroom as Jonathan thought about it. At length, those darkened eyes cut to her and he nodded.

 

: : : :

Jonathan was exhausted, both physically and mentally. It’d been _two days_ since Will went missing, and he knew enough about kidnappings to know the odds kept dwindling so he’d stayed sane by telling himself over and over that Will wasn't kidnapped, he was just lost.

Still, two days of worry and guilt and helplessness had its toll, not to mention the long drive up to see Lonnie, facing all of that bastard’s bullshit, and driving home with it rattling in his head. _That's your mother talkin’...You should move to the city. People are more_ real _here, ya know?... Jesus, one kid missing while the other runs wild._ Hatred felt like a burning pit in his gut and carrying it had only tired him out further.

Stopping to take pictures had been the only thing Jonathan could think of to do, and all he had expected out of it was to still his mind and find some semblance of _order_ . Photography had never let him down in that regard. Standing in the shadows behind Steve Harrington’s house, watching the other teenagers through the lense, Jonathan had slipped out of the turmoil of the present and into that thoughtless place of taste and instinct--but then that _thing_...

Now he dripped water onto his bathroom floor with _Barbara Holland_ of all people, a classmate whom he had never so much as said a single word to in the two and a half years since she showed up in his classes. He’d heard others refer to her as a “homeschool freak.” He knew she hung out with Nancy Wheeler and that she did well enough in class for teachers to brag on her. Other than those almost inconsequential facts, he knew _nothing_ about her.

Just now, though, he was grateful she was there, because she saw that Thing, too, which meant he _wasn't_ going crazy. She also spoke with authority and logic as she talked about tracking the freakish beast down for evidence.

The thought of Will being eaten by it chilled Jonathan to his core, mind flinching from it as readily as it did from thoughts of Will being in the hands of perverted men leading secret lives of unconscionable acts. He latched onto the shred of hope that came from the fact that his mother _swore_ she had heard Will breathing on that call last night.

If Will was alive after a day of being gone then a monster from the woods couldn't have eaten him… right? But that meant he was somewhere with a phone. So someone _took_ him and wasn’t letting him go.

Maybe the call was a prank like Hop said… but Mom _knows_ Will’s breathing...

Honestly, Jonathan didn't know which one he would rather have happened to his baby brother--a gruesome but ultimately quick death from a flesh eating alien thing or on-going torture from human monsters with the odds, however shrinking, of saving him…

Heart heavy like a black stone, Jonathan vaguely thought that if Will _was_ dead, he hoped it was that Thing that got him--at least then he maybe didn't suffer for very long. But Jonathan couldn't stomach these thoughts so when the vague thought floated near him, he banished it and focused instead on his camera.  

Soaked, most likely ruined. Jesus Christ, did his _whole life_ have to be taken from him? His eyes pricked with tears of frustration caked on top of heartbreak. He pressed his shaky lips together and willed himself not to cry in front of Barb, who stood there looking lost.

Her short red curls were plastered to her head, water droplets still clung to her huge, thick glasses. She clutched the blanket around herself, but wasn't shivering. Mom kept it warm in the house.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asked her reflection.

“Well, I’m supposed to be staying the night at Nancy’s but she’s…” she trailed off. Jonathan recalled Nancy undressing in a bedroom window and scoffed with understanding. Barb’s eyes cut up to him.

“I could go home,” she mused out loud, “But if my parents see me like this they’ll have questions. Nancy doesn't have a pool…” Suddenly she shook her head and waved a hand, “No, you know what? It’s fine, I can think of something. Thank you for saving me from that… that…” She closed her eyes and shook her head with the same bewilderment Jonathan still felt. “I’ll just… I’ll think of something.”

“You’re not going to tell your parents about that Thing?” Jonathan asked, surprised.

She paused and frowned at him, jutting her chin out challengingly. “Are you going to tell your mom?”

Jonathan didn’t have to think about it--of _course_ he wasn't going to say anything. How could he? Considering his own turmoil over the notion of that thing getting its claws in Will, he couldn’t do it. It would scare her, and she would only worry more. Better to wait until… what? Until they found evidence one way or the other about what really happened to Will.

“No,” he answered firmly. “She’s going through enough already. I-I’ll wait until we have proof.”

Barb nodded in agreement and reached out to grip his arm consolingly. The touch startled him--he didn’t like people touching him--and when he flinched she withdrew her hand all at once with a merp of an apology. Hating himself, he blushed and couldn't meet her eye.

“So,” she said with the authority he was beginning to expect from her. “We don’t tell our folks until we have evidence.”

“Right,” he said. “Which means you can’t go home soaking wet. You can stay here.”

Barb balked. “Really?”

Realizing she probably had tons of friends whom she could stay with to avoid telling her parents about the party, Jonathan ducked his head, feeling a blush. “Look, I’m just trying to help. If you would rather not, I can take you someplace else. I just thought since we both want proof of that Thing, then you could stay and we could talk strategy. I mean, your parents think you're at Nancy’s anyway, right? Why worry them?”

She watched him with narrowed, suspicious eyes and Jonathan shrugged, feeling her look like prickles on his skin and wishing he hadn't said anything. It was dumb. A lame attempt to cling onto whatever tenuous bond they had now having seen that Thing together, a rash try at not being alone after-- _everything_.

“But whatever,” he started to ramble. “Nevermind. I’ll take you home or wherever--” he stepped toward the bathroom door, eager to smooth over his painfully awkward blunder, but Barb spoke suddenly,

“No. You're right. I might as well stay here. I mean…” her laugh sounded nervous, “Why would you save me just to kill me, right?”

At this, Jonathan frowned in confusion, but then he supposed girls were supposed to be cautious of guys they didn't know inviting them to stay at their house.


	2. The Real Jonathan Byers

Barb looked down at the drooling dog at her feet as Jonathan dunked out of the bathroom and into another room. The dog looked up at her contentedly, not at all asking what the hell she was doing there. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if she was being stupid… but Jonathan was going through too much to try anything--right? And if he did… Well, she’d put a stop to it.

Quietly weighing the consequences of going home and confessing about the party--thus getting Nancy in trouble--or staying here with Jonathan Byers, Barb found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Suddenly being a teenager was difficult and confusing and she didn't like it at all. Ultimately, she decided her options were to lose Nancy’s friendship versus possibly gaining Jonathan’s. So she should take a chance on him and stay--right?

Her impromptu savior and host returned with sweatpants and a T-shirt. His mother's, he said; she wouldn't mind. Left alone in the bathroom, Barb was grateful to strip out of her wet clothes into the warm dry things. She didn't even mind not having a bra or underwear. But she groaned with frustration upon finding that the sweatpants were about four inches too short.

Barb self-consciously stepped out of the bathroom and through to the only other light in the house--Jonathan’s bedroom. For some reason, it surprised her to find a reasonably tidy space. A light smatter of laundry. An unmade bed. She recognized some of the music posters. Most of the room was taken up by a record player, speakers and a huge collection of albums.

Jonathan had already changed into shorts and a tshirt and rolled out a sleeping bag on the carpet in front of his desk. He looked up as she stepped into the room with a self conscious smirk on her lips and a tug on the too-short pants. He saw the hem cutting across her shins and a dimple showed up in one cheek.

“Yeah, mom’s pretty short,” he apologized. He stood. Barb looked away from his bare hairy thighs with a prim throat clear. “Here…” he turned to a dresser and a moment later held out another pair of sweatpants.

She took them gratefully, stepped back through to the bathroom and returned shortly in pants of the appropriate length. She had neatly folded his mother's and left them on the sink. Her own wet clothes hung on the side of the tub to dry.

To her surprise, Jonathan wasn’t in the room when she got back to it. She heard sounds of him in the kitchen and decided to stay put rather than wander around the unfamiliar house. The surrealness of her situation had begun to sink in. This was happening; having escaped death, she was literally _in a_ _boy’s_ _room_ in the _middle of the night_.

 _Nancy would be so proud,_ Barb thought with a derisive snort. If only Nancy would believe what had just happened--Barb had a nasty feeling that her best friend in the world would just think she was crazy. (Barb would, if their roles were reversed.) Thinking of Nancy made her worry for a moment about something other than the monster or Jonathan Byers. Was Nancy still at Steve’s or had she come back down stairs as Barb had predicted only to find Barb had actually gone?

The twist of guilt for abandoning Nancy sat potent in her gut, despite the random alien attack which had prompted her sudden and unconventional departure. She hoped Nancy wasn't upset and that if she left that party she did so safely...

Nervous and weird, Barb tried to act like she knew what she was doing, as if she stayed over in random boys’ rooms all the time…. And Jonathan Byers was certainly _random_ . Of all the people in the world, _he_ saved her life. What did that make them now? She wanted to help prove the monster was out there and hopefully find his brother, if anything just to even things back out.

Barb didn't want to snoop, but she couldn't help examine the things cluttering the surfaces of the room. Boys were strange animals that she rarely got to examine up close. She had brothers, but they were much older and had not lived at home for several years.

Jonathan's room was nothing like theirs had been. No sports memorabilia. No action figures. His interests were clearly music-based. An electric guitar and an amp were shoved off in one corner. She balked at the pack of camels, ashtray and lighter on the desk next to a graphing calculator and pencil sharpener.

Considering the stench of cigarette smoke from the moment she stepped into the house--actually from the moment she got in his car--she realized she shouldn't be surprised. Barb noted the thin slither of disappointment and killed it on the spot. No need to be disappointed that he was dumb enough to smoke. Because she expected nothing from him. Nothing.

The dog was on the bed, panting happily. She idly scratched his ears and the mutt rolled over with a pleasured groan, tongue looking out, making her smile. His collar said simply J.R.R and she grinned, thinking of hobbits.

With a small ruff, the mut perked up, attention suddenly in the bedroom window. Barb looked, too, adrenaline spiking. The lamp in that corner flickered and a squeaking floorboard made her whirl and grab her heart with a gasp of fright.

Jonathan Byers had arrived in his bedroom door holding a bowl of water. Once again she didn't feel comfortable looking at the dark hair on his bare legs so she didn't.

“Better?” He asked with a grin down at the rumbled pant hems around her ankles.

Self conscious suddenly of the fact that she was standing in front of a half naked boy and she wasn't wearing a bra under the loose t shirt, Barb crossed her arms with a silent nod. But then she was suddenly babbling, “Is--is it alright my clothes are strewn all over your bathroom? I mean. Like. If your mom went in there or…?”

“It’s fine,” he sat the bowl of water carefully on his desk and caught, from under his arm, a mashed box of bandaids which he handed out to her. She had lost the other bandage at some point.

She re-bandaged her thumb. There was less blood, thankfully, though she accidentally tore it back open while applying the antiseptic paste from the tube which had been crammed into the box. Hissing, she blew on the cut and wrapped it up.

As she did this, he retrieved the sodden camera and returned to the bowl of water.

“What’s that for?” Barb asked.

“I think I can save my camera,” he answered, “and the pictures, but I have to keep the film wet or the roll will stick together.”

“Oh,” she said. He reached over and flipped off the bedroom light, “One sec,” he said apologetically, “I can't expose the film to light just yet.”

She heard him open the camera, the glop of the film going into the water, then the sound of a plastic lid popping into place. A moment later the light came back on. Jonathan thumped the dark blue, tightly sealed, water filled bowl. “There. I can develop the roll tomorrow at school.”

“And then we’ll have a picture of that Thing…” Barb said with a shiver of fear. She could still see the Teeth coming right at her, and the way it had stalked the edge of the water, swiping at her with that taloned hand--Her stomach hurt and she felt cold.

Jonathan met her eyes knowingly and then turned to the bed. She noted for the first time that he had put the sleeping bag over the quilt. “Um. You can sleep here,” he said, “I got out my sleeping bag because I’m sure you would rather not sleep in some random guy’s sheets. I'm going to be out on the couch so--”

“No!” Barb cut in and then hated herself _so much_ she could die. Her cheeks heated up, and the way Jonathan looked like a deer in headlights didn't help. “I mean. I just.” She didn't know where to look or what to do with her hands. God, this was a nightmare. With a deep breath she got ahold of herself. “It’s been a _weird_ night and so much has happened, and I'm in an unfamiliar house... I just... I'd rather not be alone?”

Jonathan’s eyes trailed on the carpet, “Right,” he said, “Of course. Um.” His discomfort was palpable and Barb’s heart went out to him. He didn't know what he was doing anymore than she did.

“I can take the sleeping bag in the floor,” Barb said, “I absolutely don't mind at all.”

“I’ll sleep in the floor,” he said firmly. “We have other sleeping bags. You're the guest so you stay in the bed. I insist.”

He rummaged in a closet for a bit and pulled out another rolled sleeping bag. She sat on the bed and smiled when the dog greedily put his head in her lap with a pathetic whine for attention. Jonathan swatted at the dog. “Jarr,” he said lowly to the shameless animal, “Leave her alone!”

“I don't mind,” she said and rubbed the dog’s head, asking with a smirk. “Jarr?”

“My brother named him after Tolkien,” Jonathan said, collecting the camera from the desk and setting on his sleeping bag with a hand towel, dabbing at the droplets in the nooks and crannies of the device. “You know. J.R.R. At first it was mom’s joke to pronounce the letter sounds, but then it just caught on and it's what he answers to now.”

“That’s so sweet!” Barb said, scrunching the dog’s jowls. Jarr licked her face, nose chin and lips indiscriminately. She let him with a fond laugh. Dogs were the _best_. When she looked up, Jonathan gave her a weird look.

“What?” she asked. His smile went quite impish, with a pointy dip in his top lip and dimples in each cheek.

“Nothing,” he said, looking back down at his camera shyly. He began dismantling the thing.

Self conscious again, Barb cleared her throat and changed the subject by climbing into the sleeping bag he had prepared for her. It smelled musty overtop of an unfamiliar detergent. “So how long have you been a photographer?”

The corners of his mouth tilted upwards. “I started taking pictures the day Will was born, when I was almost seven... Never really stopped.”

Barb smiled at that. “You and your brother are close, huh?”

“Well it's just us and mom and she works all the time.” His face pinched, and he fumbled the camera pieces as if suddenly he didn't know how to fix them. “God….that… that _Thing_ probably ate him!”

Jonathan tucked his chin and real tears slid down his face. His shoulders jumped with repressed sobs. Barb had never seen a boy cry like this, not even her older brothers. Lost, she rolled to the edge of the bed and reached out to put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. That seemed to help, as the intensity of the cry cut in half. He sniffed and a few seconds later, he wasn't crying anymore.

“Sorry,” he said, drying his face with the towel.

“I get it,” Barb said. He examined the pieces in his hands and resumed work on the camera. Barb gave him an awkward mother-like pat to the back and let him go.

“There’s a chance it didn't get him…” he murmured. “I mean, we found his bike in those woods…. But… we got a phone call last night... Mom said it sounded like Will.”

“Wow, really?” Barb asked.

Jonathan grimaced bitterly. “I don’t know. We told Chief Hopper about it, and he said it could have been a prank.”

“Could have been him, though. Maybe wherever he is, he’s safe from that Thing.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan murmured bending over his dismantled camera. He had dried every part that he could get at, but if any water got into the casing he was screwed. He didn't look very happy. “It’s probably no use.”

“I have one we can use, if you can’t fix that one,” Barb said, thinking out loud. “But it would probably be best for both of us to have one. You know, twice the chance of getting a shot of it.”

“...So you _want_ to go back out there?”

Barbara worried her lip between her teeth. But she knew what had to be done. “Not tonight. But-- first thing after school we comb those woods for signs of it. We get _proof_ and then we go to the cops.”

Jonathan looked at her again with that _look_ and Barb reached out to shove him to make him stop. “Are you in or do I have to do it alone?”

“I'm in.”

Barb didn't really sleep, but six hours passed in total silence as they pretended; her in the bed with the dog, Jonathan Byers in the floor beside her. Her mind crawled over the scientific anomaly that had so utterly disrupted her life, this _beast_ of teeth. What was it? Where did it come from? It didn't exist in nature, that was for sure.

If it was natural, explorers and scientists would have discovered it ages ago, or it would resemble other animals. So it was some kind of freakish experiment. The government laboratory nearby--it must have escaped. Why would anyone make something like that on purpose? It just didn't make any sense.

Barb’s concentration broke when she thought she heard Jonathan crying again at one point, but when she dropped a hand down to his shoulder he grunted and lifted his head.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she retracted her hand quickly, remembering too late he didn't  like to be touched. “Sorry. I thought I heard you crying. Sorry.”

He sniffed, letting her know that she'd been right, and he had only managed to sound casual. She patted his shoulder again. “If your mom says it was him on the phone then maybe we should trust her. Moms know their kids, right?”

He snorted. “She wants it to be him so bad… I don’t know if she’s reliable in her state right now.” He sounded so small. So tired. Barb couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to doubt your own mother’s state of mind.

Barb grit her teeth and tried to do better at comforting him. “Ok maybe it wasn't him. But that doesn't mean that Thing got him. It just means--I don't know. Maybe he climbed up a tree out of its reach. It wasn't a swimmer. Maybe it can't climb either.”

Jonathan gasped wetly. “Yeah, maybe,” he said with weak conviction. Barb let her hand rest on his shoulder for a second longer. Right when she thought she'd better give him space again, his hand settled on top of hers, warm and heavy. She made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed and fell asleep like that.

A distant voice woke Barb the next morning. At first she had no idea where she was and the disorientation made it nearly impossible to find her glasses. When she finally did and sat up with them on, her sleep fogged mind had finally caught up to the surreal events of the night before.

Jonathan Byers’ bedroom. Right. JRR was snoring lightly on the floor down beside Jonathan, who was sprawled sound asleep on top of a sleeping bag with a sheet. He looked significantly less dangerous like this. Perfectly harmless in fact. With the dog snuggled close and the peaceful repose, he looked almost childlike.

The sound that woke her started again, a low and frail sounding voice from down the hall, talking fast. Barb remembered Jonathan’s mother and reached down to shake the boy awake. It would be best if he went out before Mrs. Byers came in and saw a girl in his bed. Right?

Jonathan came awake all at once, bolting upright. “S’matter?”

“Um. I think your mom is awake?” Barb said lowly.

Jonathan listened and heard his mother's distressed voice. He shot to his feet and left the room. Barb got out of the bed and wondered if she could dart into the bathroom and get back into her clothes without being seen…

She stood awkwardly on his bedroom rug for a minute before she decided to risk it. Stepping through to the bathroom, she heard voices from the room down the hall, clearer now because the door stood open.

“Will? You're brother is here. Can you show him what you showed me, baby?” Barb couldn't help but pause at this, frowning with alarm. Mrs. Byers was talking to-- _Will_?

In the bedroom there was a gasp and Mrs Byers cried, “There! Did you see that?”

“It’s the _electricity_ mom!” Jonathan said, pained. “It’s acting up. It’s the same thing that fried the phone!”

The voice that argued back was stronger and forceful, “No! It is _not_ the electricity, Jonathan! _Something_ is _going on_ here! Yesterday the wall--”

“What about the wall?” Jonathan cut in, just as forceful. “First the lights and then the _wall_?”

“I don't know!” Mrs Byers was almost shouting. “I just know that Will is _here_!”

“No, Mom!” Jonathan's voice almost broke.

“Maybe if I had more lamps--”

“You don't _need_ more lamps, okay?” Jonathan cried, “You need _to stop this_ ! He is just _lost_ ! People are _looking_ for him and they are _going to find him_! This is nothing!”

Barb had drifted a step or two towards the bedroom and could see through the open door a clutter of lamps crowded around the bed where mother and son sat. Jonathan was holding the small woman by the shoulders, “Can you do me a favor, mom? Can you try to get some sleep? Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Mrs Byers sniffed and she sounded fragile, “I-I just need to sit here for a minute.”

“Okay,” Jonathan sounded deflated. “I'll go make breakfast.”

Suddenly aware she eavesdropped, Barb put her head down and hurried toward the bathroom, but not fast enough. Jonathan caught her in the hall. She stopped guiltily, hating the humiliated expression that flickered over his heartbroken face as he sped up and brushed past her into the kitchen.

Once again, Barb hurried after him like when she had followed him into the woods. “I'm sorry!” she said lowly. “I wasn't eavesdropping on purpose. I--I was going to the bathroom and--”

“She’s--” Jonathan cut in and then, sagging as if under a great weight, he caught the back of a kitchen chair. “I don't know. I-I’ve never seen her like this. I don't know what to do.”

Barb put a hand on his shoulder, feeling lost as well but she knew Jonathan must be worse, which meant it was her job to help. “We’ll make breakfast. Right?”

He sniffed. “Yeah. Ok.”

They stayed there a minute longer, her hand warming his shoulder through his thin shirt. Barb understood now why Jonathan could doubt it when his mother said Will had called, since she was saying Will was home but not home. Barb’s heart broke.

A gasp made them both jump and Barb dropped her hand from Jonathan’s shoulder. Mrs. Byers had entered the kitchen--a small woman with unkempt hair and wrinkled clothes. She had a hand on her heart, brown eyes wide and mouth agape, “Oh! I--I didn't know anyone was here. Um. Who are you?”

Barb was suddenly acutely aware again that she wasn't wearing a bra and that Jonathan was half naked. Clearing his throat, Jonathan went about starting breakfast  “This is Barb, mom. Barb, this is my mom. Joyce.”

With a nervous laugh, Barb stepped forward with her hand out. “I'm _so sorry_ to intrude but last night--”

“I needed her help,” Jonathan cut in. “She stayed over. For emotional support.”

Joyce took Barb’s hand for a quick, already distracted, shake. Barb felt callouses as well as a steady tremor in the woman’s hand. She blushed at Jonathan’s explanation, which to her sounded very thin. Blinking as if struggling to keep up, Joyce pulled out a kitchen chair and sat  “Oh, ok. Well, I--I’m sorry the place is such a mess. I haven't had time--”

“It's okay,” Barb cut in, sitting beside her at the table and putting a hand on hers. Joyce’s hand still shook. “I understand that you're going through hell. I want to help in any way I can.”

Joyce smiled at her, and Barb got the distinct impression that if the worry lines and fear could be eased away this woman would be gorgeous. Her smile reached her eyes, which were dark and expressive like Jonathan’s. A second warm and gentle hand dropped onto Barb’s. “You're sweet. Uh, _Barb_ , was it? How, how come Jonathan hasn't mentioned a girlfriend before?”

Cracking eggs into a pan, Jonathan snorted. “Barb’s just a friend, mom.”

“You still could have mentioned her!” Joyce bantered and it was a valiant attempt at light-hearted mother/son teasing but it just missed the mark. Jonathan had no come back and too soon the worry was back in Joyce's eyes. JRR emerged from the bedroom with a stretch and a dog yawn and went right for the door, whining.

“He needs to go out,” Jonathan said, pushing eggs around the pan. “Barb, can you?”

Eager to actually prove to Joyce that she was here to help and not to sleep with Jonathan, Barb leapt up and opened the front door. The dog bounded out, and the sun blinded her. She groaned, noting its position in the sky.

“What time is it?” she asked, shutting the door.

Casting a look around the sun filled but disorderly living room, she couldn't find a clock anywhere. Jonathan looked at his watch and swore. “Damn, it's ten til eight.”

“ _What_?” Barb choked.

“Our electricity has been blinking off and on. It must have reset my alarm clock.”

“Are you late for school?” Joyce asked, getting to her feet.

“Yes,” Barb answered, fighting mild panic. She had never been late before in her life. “I better get dressed.”

In the bathroom, she changed back into her still damp clothes and then tried to do something with her hair. Running a hairbrush through it made the curls frizzy and a quick glance in the cabinet proved that Joyce wasn't a hair product kind of woman. Defeated, Barb applied the feminine brand of deodorant that was in the cabinet and squirted some toothpaste on a finger to scrub at her teeth. She wouldn't look her best today but that hardly mattered. Her attendance record and her GPA mattered more than her hair and wrinkled clothes.

Barb stepped out into the kitchen. Jonathan had dressed and hugged his mother.

“I'm just going to pick up my class assignments and then come straight home,” Jonathan said. Joyce settled in a chair, nodding.

Barb smiled tightly at him, and he hurried with her out of the house. “Did you remember the film?”

He thumped the bag hanging from his shoulder. She heard the slosh of water.

: : : :

It embarrassed Jonathan that Barb had witnessed the thing with his mom and the lamps. His mom had had episodes of anxiety before but nothing like _that_. He had the horrifying feeling that she was cracking, and so he was resolved more than ever not to tell her about the monster. He couldn’t lose her, too. Not her, too.

Less important but still embarrassing was that he had made Barb late for school. After her comfort and support last night--her hand on his shoulder had been weird at first but then it had been nice--and he repaid her by getting her to school _late_. She was being nice about it, but he could tell it upset her. It prevented the insanity from last night from being contained; it spilled over into a whole new day. He drove as fast as he could.

His life fell apart around him and the woods of Hawkins crawled with unfathomable creatures of evil, but he didn’t want to disrupt Barb’s whole life. Not after she had been so nice.


	3. Drama Llama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmmm... Fair warning, Nancy might not come off as so great in this chapter? But that's because they are all teenagers and emotions run high. Ultimately, Nancy is a good person and friend. Just maybe not right this second lol

**Chapter Three: Drama Llama**

Barb couldn't help but fret as Jonathan drove her back to her car. For all the crap that went down last night, she somehow never expected to be _late to school_ this morning. And, regardless of having reality suddenly in question, her attendance record still mattered enough to put a knot in her stomach.

They found her car just as she had left it the night before. She thanked Jonathan and hurried out of his car into the cold morning air. Thank God her father had taught her to always, _always_ keep a backup pair of “hiking worthy” socks and shoes in the trunk of her car for whenever disaster struck and she had to walk a thousand miles in a blizzard or something. As she laced up the boots, she vowed never to make fun of her father's preparedness rules ever again.

When she slid behind the wheel and started the car, Jonathan--who had stayed idling in the lane--tooted his horn and pulled away with a wave. She waved, too, feeling grateful for the boy who saved her life, gave her a safe place to stay for the night, and made her breakfast.

Jonathan Byers, she thought as she headed to school. For the first few years of her public school experience, Barb had allowed her peers to form her opinion of the quiet loner. They had said he wasn’t all that smart and was a total creep, and Barb had noticed on her own that he never seemed to be paying attention in class and he _did_ have this habit of staring, so she had bought into all the rumors and assumptions of him in a passive sort of way.

Until earlier this year, in Chemistry, when the teacher had gotten into a tangent about college prep and how, as juniors, they could never start too early. Mrs. Perry had asked for a show of hands for anyone who already had an idea of where they wanted to go to school. A few students had lazily lifted their hands and to Barb’s surprise, Mrs. Perry said, “Byers, you told me once you're looking at NYU, right?”

“Yes, m’am,” he had said quietly.

“With your grades, dedication and focus, I don't doubt you’ll get in,” Mrs. Perry had said and launched into a spiel about how from this moment on their GPA's had to matter to them and they should look into practice SAT’s, blah blah blah.

Barb had reeled. _What_ ? Jonathan Byers had the _grades_ to get into _NYU_? She had glanced back at him and his shaggy haircut, hunched down in his seat in the back, wearing his out of style clothes, dark eyes locked on his empty desk, and could hardly believe it.

At that point, she had been told by her guidance counselor that she was “very nearly” the top of the class. Meaning she was _second_ . And no matter how much Barb had begged, she hadn't been divulged of the name of the _one kid_ beating her for the slot. Attempting to ascertain the culprit on her own, she always asked around for what her peers made on tests and essays and kind of kept a running tab on grade averages, always finding them below her own much to her frustration. That morning in Chemistry, she’d had the sickening realization that her competitor could very well be Jonathan Byers.

Barb never thought of him the same again, though since then he had fallen well back into the margins of her life as she buckled down to beat him in every way. Maybe that was why she had trusted him so easily last night; she had already learned he was nothing at all what everyone said he was, and insofar as she vaguely thought of him before every single test, it was in her mind that they already had a kind of relationship.

Barb pulled into her parking space and got out in time to see Jonathan dunking into the east wing entrance nearest to the art studio. She marveled once again at how she had glimpsed a whole new guy but then stored away those thoughts and hurried to class.

The teacher accepted the tardy note and Barb slid into her seat as quickly and quietly as she could. Beside her, Nancy had brightened and blatantly stared at her with excitement and curiosity. Nancy knew that Barb would never be late unless it was life or death--oh, she had no idea.

When Barb finally glanced at her friend, Nancy mouthed, _are you okay?_ For a second, it felt as if she had her best friend back and Barb almost smiled and nodded. _I'm fine_ , she mouthed.

With only about ten minutes left in first period, Barb barely had time to turn in her homework and write down today's assignment before the second period bell rang. Barb _did not_ like this harrassed-for-time feeling.

Nancy started talking immediately. “Oh my god, my mother was _so mad_ at me when I got home last night! Did you get in trouble?”

Barb packed her books and pulled out her Chem notes, trying to remind herself that she was caught up and didn't have to rush anymore (but this weird urgent feeling lingered and her mind kept turning corners back toward the art department where Jonathan now developed pictures of her near-death experience and then skipping back to that _monster_ . Then spinning around to Will. Then lurching to a stop at a mom talking to fritzy lamps like they were her little boy...and Jonathan being forced to bear it all alone. _Where is his dad?_ she wondered.)

“Barb?” Nancy asked again, drawing her out of her troubling thoughts. “Did you get in trouble?”

“No.”

“Good,” Nancy breathed easier as if the weight of the world slipped off her shoulders. “That's why I told you to go ahead without me. No sense in both of us being grounded.”

“Uh-huh,” Barb said, when all she _really_ wanted to do was snort and go _suuuuuure, you were just looking out for me when you totally ditched me._  Her message got through to Nancy anyway. The girl stopped talking, and her smile dropped as she realized Barb was angry.

Nancy opened her locker and got out her note cards but didn't even flip the first one over. They walked silently to their next class, with Barb actually studying her own note cards and Nancy scoffing every couple of seconds. The bell rang.

Once at their desks, Nancy broke and asked, “Barb, why are you so mad at me?”

At this Barb did laugh, and she looked over at Nancy, allowing weeks of repressed anger to bubble up for the first time. Outwardly Nancy looked exactly the same, but Barb had been witness to an inner metamorphosis the last month that had turned her best friend Nancy into someone else, someone who needed a weekend to shop for _one shirt_ to look good for a boy, someone who deemed November pool parties on a school night more important than friendship, someone who made out a couple of times with a senior and called it _nothing,_ someone who chugged beer and went up to a guy's room to “change her clothes” acting all _innocent_ about it.

And all for a boy who wasn't looking at Nancy _any differently_ than he’d looked at all the other girls.

“Look at my hand, Nance!” She waved the bandage in front of those doe eyes. “I almost needed stitches!”

“And that's my fault?” Nancy asked. “It was an accident and no one _made_ you try it.”

Barb’s jaw literally dropped. “Are you serious right now?”

Nancy set her chin. “You could have just said no.”

Barb slammed her books down, went to the teacher’s desk, and asked for a hall pass. “Try to use the facilities before the bell, Ms. Holland.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Barb said, taking the pass. She just couldn't talk to Nancy anymore without screaming and that would only land her in detention. She washed her face and leaned on the counter for a second.

Her thumb hurt, and she hated that Nancy was right (she should have just said no) and she hated that of course she _couldn't_ have said no at the time, because if she had then Tommy H and Carol and Steve would have just snickered some more and Nancy would have been embarrassed. Barb had only tried to shotgun that beer to avoid a fight today and now look, they were having one.

Only, Barb had started it, and she hated being angry at her only friend and she _hated_ not being able to tell Nancy that some _thing_ had tried to kill her while the two lovebirds were upstairs, and that the most surprising person had saved her and _took her home with him_ and cried and held her hand--

Monsters. Tall, ugly, freakish, beasts were _real_ . Will Byers was _missing._ People had to know what could have happened to him. But who would believe her? How could she get Nancy to believe? She'd need the picture. Hopefully, Jonathan had been able to save the film...

A bell rang. Third period. Barb gasped. She hadn't meant to ditch all of second period!

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Barb muttered. She dried her eyes and tried to make them look less puffy. Nancy met her outside the bathroom with all her things, looking immensely concerned. Barb took the stack of books from the other girl. “Thanks.”

“Do you feel like I ditched you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Barb said. She didn't get to say anything else--like how even though Nancy had ditched her, Barb had decided to wait because she had wanted to be there for her friend, except that a _Thing_ had tried to--but before she could get into all that, Steve Harrington cut in, swooping in like some kind of vulture. “Ladies! Great party last night, huh?”

Nancy’s face lit up and she went to her toes to kiss Steve. Barb failed to repress a mock gagging noise. “Oh, please.”

Steve’s lips peeled from Nancy, and he looked at Barb with a frown while Nancy looked at her with wide eyes of offense.

“You didn't have fun? Oh, that's right. Your hand. Are you okay?”

“No,” Barb snapped. She honestly didn't know where this sea of rage had come from. Maybe embarrassment for having been caught crying in the bathroom without the chance to explain it had _way more_ to do with life and death than some silly jealousy.

But there was no fighting the tide. Barb was _too tired_ and _too stressed_ to work extra hard at winning the approval of Nancy’s new friends enough for them to believe her story. So she let herself burn and almost liked it. Her fingers shook. “And I'm late for class. Excuse me.”

By lunch, Barb’s thumb hurt so bad she went to the nurse, who gave her some pain killers. She went ahead and stayed in the nurse’s office so that she wouldn't have to see Nancy and Steve holding hands and kissing over their lunch trays.

On the way to fifth period, Nancy caught her at their lockers. “Barb! Will you talk to me, please?”

“So long as it isn't about Steve Harrington then sure. We can talk.”

Nancy scrunched her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I listened to you do nothing but talk about this guy for months, and I'm a little tired of it. He may be your entire world right now, but I have other stuff to worry about!”

“Like what? The chem test?”

Rage boiled up again. _That_ had been 100% Steve Harrington talking out of Nancy’s mouth. Yes, the chem test was important, and Nancy was a fool to pretend otherwise, but _there was so much more than that._

Barb sputtered on the spot, so angry she couldn't even articulate.

How _dare_ Nancy insinuate Barb had nothing but homework to think about? That Barb didn’t have _other_ friends with serious problems who needed her help. (She didn't even think about how Jonathan Byers was suddenly a Friend.)

“NAN-SAY!” Steve called from down the hall. He, Tommy H, and Carol were like a pack of hyenas waiting at the water fountain, eyeing Barb like she was something they couldn’t wait to tear to shreds.

Barb sighed and shook her head. “Go hang out with your friends, Nancy. I have important things to do.”

“Like _what_?”

The highlights of her ordeal collided in her mind and she meant to shout something like _monster hunting_ or _helping a REAL_ _friend_ but instead she only shouted, “Jonathan--” and swallowed the word _Byers_. Not that that helped. _She was going to do Jonathan_? Oh god. “He needs help!”

“Helping the freak that killed his brother? Uh, sure!” Carol said and the others howled with laughter. Barb put her head down, and Carol’s cackling words drifted to her. “Isn’t she in the same clothes from _yesterday_?”

Tears blurred Barb’s vision so badly she might as well have lost her glasses. She rounded a corner and smacked straight into a girl. Nicole scoffed. “Oh my god. Have you seen Nancy? Jonathan Byers has been taking some _weird_ pictures.”

Barb hiccuped and looked past the girl. She spotted Jonathan hurrying down the hallway. Ignoring Nicole completely, she lengthened her stride to catch up, shouting, “Jon, wait!”

Jonathan turned with a frown as if he wasn't sure he was being summoned. When he saw her, he relaxed and almost smiled. “Oh, hey,” he said softly. He had a stack of wet photos clutched to his chest, but he instantly zeroed in on her puffy eyes. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Just had a little fight with Nancy. Whatever. The pictures? Did they come out?”

“Um,” Jonathan awkwardly straightened the bunch and nodded. Barb gently bumped his elbow to get him to fall into step with her. Screw going to last period. This was more important.

“I thought you were going home early?” she asked.

“Oh. I was. But then, the school counselor met me in the front office. We talked for a bit.”

“Oh,” Barb brushed her fingers through her unruly curls. “That's good.”

Jonathan heaved a sigh as if maybe it was, but he just couldn't know until the nightmare was actually over. Barb thought she understood. This kind of life and death situation was enough to make high school feel so trivial. Maybe she should talk with the counselor, too.

“So? The monster?” she asked.

He shuffled through and showed her a particular one. “The last shot. It's not as clear as I'd hoped it was.”

Barb looked at the dark photo of herself straddling the diving board, looking sad. Behind her, the blurry, shadowy outline of the monster had just stepped into frame.

Her blood ran cold. “There it is.”

“It’s too blurry. No _way_ the cops believe it's anything.”

“Then we get a better picture of it,” Barb insisted firmly. “Nancy is going to the game with Steve tonight. Which means Steve isn't going home. We can go over to his place now and try to find evidence. Footprints and stuff.”

Jonathan frowned at her quizzically and when she became self conscious enough to ask him what he was looking at, he shrugged. “Nothing just…. Thanks. You really do want to help, enough to go back to where you almost got eaten.”

Her hand went to his shoulder. “That _thing_ is a scientific anomaly and a _dangerous_ predator. Your brother was last seen in the same woods it prowls. The minute we get evidence, real _trained_ hunters-- or soldiers or _whatever--_ can come in and find it. And maybe Will too.”

They fell into step towards the parking lot. Barb squinted at the image. “It’s humanoid which is the most disturbing thing. Humanoid monsters don't just _roam_ rural communities. It has to be from somewhere. The only logical explanation is that this thing came out of Hawkins Lab.”

“Right,” Jonathan said. “Military examining visiting aliens. Or developing biological warfare or, or attack beasts or something.”

Barb hadn't considered extra terrestrial lifeforms yet and frowned with intrigue. Honestly, she hoped it was a prototype one-and-done deal. The thought of more sent a chill up her spine. “Exactly, which means they’ll want to cover it up. Might be hard to get anyone to believe us. Hence why we need the best evidence we can find.”

“And we shouldn't just spread around what we know, either,” Jonathan said. “The Department of Energy would have a licence to kill in the name of protecting interests.”

Barb’s blood ran cold. “You're right.”

“What if--” Jonathan choked. “What if Will saw something and they--they caught him and--?”

Barb snagged his hand and squeezed it. “ _Evidence_ is what will save him if that's true. Right?”

Jonathan stopped walking, breath reversing sharply and attention now elsewhere. Barb noted his eyeline, and looked toward his car. Her stomach sank at the sight of Steve, Tommy H, Carol, Nancy and Nicole loitering right by his vehicle. Obviously, skipping last period and waiting on him. This couldn't be good.

Barb let his hand go but not before Nancy clocked their joined hands and gave Barb a look of stunned disbelief as they approached. “What’s going on, Barb?” Nancy asked, eyes darting from Jonathan and back to her.

“We were going to ask the same thing,” Barb returned icily. She didn't like the way all eyes were on Jonathan in this predatory way. They were just _waiting_ to jump him.

“What’s going on,” Steve said, stepping forward, “Is that you _clearly_ don't realize your freak boyfriend here is a pervert.”

Both Jonathan and Barb opened their mouths to correct the second assumption of the morning that he was her boyfriend but before they could, Tommy H swooped in and snagged Jonathan’s bag. What attempts Jonathan made to get it back were futile as the group of neanderthals tossed it around to keep it out of his reach. Barb made a few grabs for it herself but missed.

“Nancy!” Barb cried in frustration at her friend who just stood there, letting the jerks do this. Nancy, arms crossed, looked down at the pavement. A moment later, Steve had the pictures out and thumbed through them.

Beside her, Barb could feel the tension and fear rolling from Jonathan. She stepped forward almost putting herself between her new friend and Steve. “Those aren't yours, _dirtbag_.”

Nancy gasped at this, but Steve scoffed and turned the pictures around to show one of the group hanging out around his pool. “But they do concern me, don't they?” He started passing the pictures around.

“Ew, he was spying on us last night?” Carol cried with a disgusted look at Jonathan, who kept his eyes on the pavement.

“He was looking for his brother,” Barb snapped, successfully grabbing the picture in Steve’s hand. Swiping at the next one, she missed as Tommy H danced it out of her reach with a cackle.

“Bet he was saving this one for later,” Carol said, holding up one of a window, through which was a perfectly clear shot of Nancy as she pulled her shirt over her head.

The picture hit Barb like a fist in the gut. Not only was it proof that Nancy had, in fact, slept with Steve Harrington last night but her new friend had taken the picture from the bushes and it was unclear why.

Jonathan blushed and his eyes left the pavement only to dart up to Barb with a pained expression of remorse. Carol waved another picture. “Oh look. Here’s one of _you_ , Barb. You look so sad and pathetic here like an abandoned puppy. Did he take pity on you?”

Nicole cackled. “Ew, more like preyed on the weakest in the herd. Only _she_ would be desperate enough to like his creepy advances.”

Barb’s face flamed red hot as the girls eyed the picture and her wrinkled clothes. “Yep,” Nicole said, “You were right. She’s in the exact same clothes she was in last night.” She held the picture up to examine it side by side with Barb's outfit. “You _totally_ went home with him, didn't you?”

Carol laughed at Barb, “Oh my god! _Dating_ your stalker? That’s so sad!”

Jonathan’s head snapped up, eyes flashing. “She’s just helping me find my brother,” he said hotly.

“Yeah sure she is,” Steve said. “Look, Barb. I’ve got nothing against ya. You're a sweet girl. I know you're smarter than this. So just ditch him and move on, okay?”

“Don't pretend like you give a shit about me,” Barb bit off and Nancy gasped at the language. Barb didn't care.

Steve, dark eyes locked on her, huffed. “You're picking his side? Barbara, he’s a _pervert_! The proof is right here!”

Barb successfully snatched the picture of Nancy away from Steve and peered at it. She didn't like that it existed. She didn't like that Nancy had undressed in front of an open window, and she didn't like that Jonathan had taken the photo. And she _hated_ that these assholes knew about it.

“I'm sorry, Nancy,” Barb said to her. “But you all have the wrong idea about him.”

“No, Barb,” Nancy shook her head, and reached for Barb with this look like she was trying to coax a sick kitten to safety. “Look at that picture. What in the world would he need that for if not--” she grimaced with disgust. “Just--come home with me. Okay?”

Barb moved away from Nancy’s reach. “No. You think I can't think for myself? You think I would just _sleep_ with a random guy out of the bushes? Why would I do that, Nancy? To be like you?” She waved the picture of Nancy. “Be a _slut_ like this? No, thank you! My mother actually taught me to keep my legs together at a party!”

Nancy gasped, looking _so hurt_ that Barb instantly regretted her words. Steve's hand shot out and _shoved_ Barb’s shoulder. “Don't you dare talk to her that way!”

Barb stumbled back a step--stunned--and next thing she knew, Jonathan was between her and Steve, shoving the pretty boy. “Keep your damn hands off her!”

Steve shoved Jonathan back, who fell against Barb and they both went down, hard, on the pavement. Nancy cried out, shoving Steve aside and trying to help Barb up, but Barb flinched away from her. “Don't touch me!”

She shook with anger and humiliation. Her cheeks were hot and wet and her hands hurt from catching her fall on the asphalt. She struggled to her feet as Jonathan did the same.

“I can't believe you hit me!” Barb shouted at Steve, voice trembling with her anger. Steve looked wide eyed and horrified. Nancy talked fast, apologetically about whether or not Steve meant to do it.

“Yeah, and we should all just calm down--” Steve joined in.

“Nice boyfriend, Nancy!” Barb spat. Gritting her teeth, she promptly ripped the incriminating photo of Nancy to shreds. She knew if she didn't they would keep it and use it against Jonathan somehow. Get him into serious trouble over it, or something. She flung the pieces at her one-time friend.

Nancy scoffed, face going mean. “At least he’s not some freak like your boyfriend!”

“Jonathan is _just my friend_ ,” Barb said. “And unlike you, when I say that, I actually _mean_ _friend,_ not fuck buddy!”

“What _happened to you_ , Barb?” Nancy cried astonished by the crass language.

“I guess I realized what a _real_ friend is, Nancy.”

Furious and hurt, Nancy shook her head and stalked off. The others followed after her but not before Tommy H saw fit to spike Jonathan’s camera into the pavement sending it to pieces. “You freaks are going to have to find a new toy,” he said and then, laughing, followed after his friends.

Jonathan collected his bag, and Barb helped pick up the pictures and camera parts. “I'm sorry,” Barb said to him.

“It's alright,” Jonathan sniffed, “They didn’t get the one of you and the monster. And the camera was already ruined.”

“I meant about all the stuff they said.”

“I--I shouldn't have taken that picture,” Jonathan said. “I wasn't going to keep it for--I mean, it wasn't like that.”

“Why did you take it?” Barb asked. They stood and Jonathan shrugged.

“I saw more than a naked girl.”

Barb frowned, mind going to things like monsters but before she could ask, Nancy was at the edge of the parking lot, having come back. “Barb!” she called, “ _Please_ just talk to me!”

She was alone, but Steve and his friends watched from a distance. Barb drew a deep breath and asked Jonathan to wait. Telling herself to stay calm, she approached Nancy.

“Look, I didn't mean what I said about you being a slut. I know how you feel about Steve. I was just angry and it’s been really annoying listening to you insist he is a friend when he’s always been more.”

“Okay, yes. I was nervous to call him my boyfriend. Is that a reason to hate him like you do?”

“He shoved me,” Barb grit.

Nancy held up her hands. “He shouldn't have, that was out of line. And he apologizes. It’s just really upsetting to us, that Jonathan would have that picture.”

“He doesn't have it anymore,” Barb said. She glared over Nancy’s head at Steve. “And if your boyfriend was really sorry he’d apologize himself.”

Nancy huffed and shook her head. “What are you _doing_ with Jonathan Byers?” she asked. “How can you be on his side in this?”

“Nancy,” Barb started, suddenly feeling exhausted. There was _so much_ to say, so much to explain, but Jonathan was right about the military having a licence to kill people who knew too much. In that moment, Barb knew she couldn't start talking about monsters.

It was not just for her own protection, or Jonathan’s, but for Nancy’s too. No way would Nancy let the bizarre behavior that was her wallflower best friend suddenly hanging out with Jonathan Byers and suddenly talking about hallucinations of people-eating monsters go without becoming concerned enough to tell adults. And adults told authorities. Wrote files.

“Barb, whatever happened last night, you can walk away from him. You know?”

Anger flaring back up, Barb reared back. “What do you think happened?”

“I don't know.” Nancy shrugged and she was still giving Barb that lost kitten look. “You felt _abandoned_? He was there…. He was nice... You wanted to,” she shrugged, “Keep up with me, maybe?”

Barb barked with bewildered laughter, feeling punched in the gut. “Oh my _god_ , you're just like them! You think I slept with him!”

“We’ll pretend it never happened.” Nancy said firmly with a flare of her nostrils. She wore her concern and determination like a veil over her pretty features, and in a vague kind of way, Barb couldn't blame her. It had to look all kinds of crazy from the outside. Whatever assumptions Nancy had made, she was trying to help her friend through the situation.

Barb sighed, shaking her head. Between finding a missing little boy, hunting a real life monster, and keeping this friendship afloat, something had to give. Friendships could at least be mended someday.

Barb found the perfect words to cut Nancy away. Meeting her friend’s eye, she echoed. “Just go home, Nancy. _I’m fine._ ”


	4. A Lady and her Knight

Barb rode in silence in the passenger seat. From behind the wheel, Jonathan was both grateful for the silence and worried by it. He didn't know what the two girls had said in the parking lot, but Barb and Nancy hadn't looked happy when they'd parted ways. Jonathan didn't know if he should ask her about it. He didn't know if she was mad at him over the pictures. 

Barb had seemed stilted and distracted as they had made plans to first stop by her place for her camera and some supplies before going back to where they found Will’s bike to comb the woods for signs of the monster. He didn't know if the friendship he had felt growing between them was still there, or if it was just the monster that kept her with him. Maybe once they found Will and killed this thing, she would leave him...

Jonathan had cracked his window, and he now flicked the ashes of his cigarette through it. He had asked Barb if she minded before lighting it up. She had insisted that her mother smoked in the car all the time so she didn't mind at all. So he drew the smoke into his lungs, allowing it to ease the tension in him caused by the whole scene earlier. He'd learned long ago to keep his head down so it had been a while since the last time he had been surrounded and harangued like that. He'd somehow forgotten the trauma of it. His body felt like a live wire. He maybe drove just a little too fast to get away from the school, the people, the noise, all which seemed to have suddenly turned on him today. When the world pressed in like this, he preferred to lock himself in his room and listen to music alone for hours on end. But when he wasn't home, the most readily available comfort was cigarettes. Hence why he smoked now.

“Does your mom know you smoke?” Barb asked suddenly into the quiet.

“Yeah,” he answered. “She hates that I do, but, I kinda learned the behavior from her and my dad. Something stressing hits ya, take a smoke break.” 

“So she buys them for you, or do you swipe them from her purse?”

Jonathan frowned over at her. “I buy them myself, with my own cash from work.”

Barb raised a challenging eyebrow which arced perfectly over the frames of her glasses. “You have to be eighteen to buy tobacco.”

“I _am_ eighteen." He smiled.

“You're a junior!” Barb cried.

“I was in third grade twice,” he admitted, blushing a little. Nerves crawled over his skin so he drew on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke, adding, “They held me back.”

“Oh,” Barb said and Jonathan felt his gut sink. He hated the way it seemed like he dropped down in her estimation or something. He nervously cleared his throat and flicked the whole cigarette out of the car and then rolled up the window.

“That’s why everyone thinks I'm stupid,” he blurted.

“No they don't!”

“Yes, they do,” Jonathan returned with an almost grateful laugh and a painful glance at her. “All those douchebags like Steve and Tommy, they remember that I used to be in their class. That’s why they tell people I'm slow.  But screw them.”

“They are the _worst_ ,” Barb scathed with loathing. “Uhg, I don't get what Nancy sees in them.”

“They’re cool _seniors_ ,” Jonathan mocked, waggling his fingers to indicate the mysterious pull the fact was supposed to have. To his delight, Barb laughed.

“They think they're so badass busting your already dead camera.” She giggled and Jonathan chuckled, too.

“Thanks,” Jonathan said. He kept his eyes locked on the road ahead and gripped the steering wheel. “You know, for sticking up for me. I know Nancy is your friend.... it can't be easy.”

“No, it's not.” Barb said soberly and then all at once she started talking a lot and fast. “It hurts that my _best friend in the world_ doesn't know me well enough to know that I would _never_ go home with a guy and sleep with him _just to keep up with her_ !” She scoffed and shook her head, adjusting her glasses. “Can you believe she said that? I mean, seriously, Nancy? God, the whole thing makes me doubt if I was ever _really_ her friend or just her audience.”

Still shaking her head, Barb fell quiet as suddenly as she had burst into words.

Jonathan sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. He felt utterly drained. Today was certainly one from hell. Not only had he woken to his mother's frayed nerves, and been late to school, but he was forced to sit and talk to a counselor all day, then those jackasses ganged up on him....

“It has to look weird from their end, though, right?” He said. And he grimaced at the thought of the picture. Self loathing swallowed him up. “That picture is bad. I’m sorry if I scared her. It wasn't anything like that, I _swear_.”

Barb drew a deep breath. “It _is_ a little weird. You were looking for your brother but… taking pictures of us?”

“I _was_ looking for Will,” he said firmly over his panic. “But I got distracted by you all. I took pictures because…” He didn't know how to say it so started over. “I’m an _observer_. It’s easier to just… watch the world rather than be in it.”

“Absolutely,” Barb intoned, surprising Jonathan with her emphatic tone. She tilted her head. “But, dude… there are lines you're not supposed to cross. You know?”

“I know,” he groaned in pain. “It’s _so stupid_ that I did that. I just…” he shook his head, feeling lost. “It's hard to explain. I guess I just… went to a place where there aren't any lines. No rules. No one else that can be hurt or--hurt me.” He scoffed, feeling way too vulnerable so adding hurriedly. “It's stupid.”

“No,” Barb insisted. “I think I get it.”

“You're the only one,” he huffed. “By morning Steve and his goons will have told the whole school. They’ll make double sure I don't belong with any of them. Not that I want to be in their stupid cliques.”

Barb made a sound of disgust  “That’s my least favorite part of public school. Cliques and social ladders. It’s disgusting because, like, _none of it is going to matter_ in real life, you know?”

“Yeah!” Jonathan beamed at her. “Yeah, most of our classmates are fake. They have to be who they are told to be to survive. But when you don't participate in all that bullshit, when you're just watching, it's easier to see the truth. It’s why I love photography, it shows what's real.”

Barb smiled at him. “And I'm sorry it cost you your camera, but _thank you_ for saving my life. Oh, turn here.”

She directed him to her house, and he pulled to the curb. She opened the car door, and looked back at him. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my mom.”

His heart seized up with sudden fear at the prospect of meeting someone new at the end of such a draining day. “Really?”

“If you don't mind, I'm going to tell her you and your mom could use my help making flyers or something. That way I can stay out as late as we need to get the picture. It’ll go better if she has met you and you're there to corroborate.”

“Okay,” he said.

The least he could do was help her convince her mother she wasn't up to anything dangerous. He got out of the car with Barb. His palms went sweaty as they crossed the lawn, and his gut knotted at the prospect of conversation.

“Barbara, is that you dear?” a kind voice called from within the house as soon as the front door opened.

“Yes,” Barb called as they stepped through. Jonathan found himself in a living room far superior than his own. The furniture looked new and it all matched. The table tops were clutter free. It smelled of potpourri. Suddenly embarrassed that Barb had seen his house in it’s rundown and less than tidy state, his cheeks burned.

With a motion to follow, Barb lead Jonathan through to the kitchen.

“I'm making pot roast for dinner,” the woman at the counter said. She was blond and older than Jonathan's own mother. Her hair was done up, she wore makeup and jewlery. It was as if she did herself up just to do housework.

“Oh, that sounds delicious, mommy, but I actually have plans.” As Barb spoke, her mother turned around and noticed Jonathan. He felt starkly out of place, like a mangy mutt on the good carpet. Barb motioned to him. “This is Jonathan Byers. He’s in my class. You probably heard about his brother Will?”

“Oh, my goodness!” The woman dropped everything and rushed over. “I did! It’s so _awful_! How are you doing, sweetie?” She looked at him with such wide open concern he didn't know what to do.

“It’s--” he started, glancing almost desperately at Barb. “It’s scary.”

“Yes, oh, and your mom? Gosh, maybe I should go by and see her?”

“No!” Barb and Jonathan said at the same time. Barb continued, explaining, “She’s not taking it well. Which is why I volunteered to help Jonathan. You know he still has a lot of flyers and stuff to make and he can't do it all on his own. So if it’s alright with you, I was going to be at his place tonight to help out in whatever way I can.”

Jonathan was grateful when the woman's attention shifted from him to her daughter. She squished Barb’s face. “Oh, you're such a good girl! Of course you can help, sweetie! In fact, here. Take a few plates for everyone to eat. That'll be my contribution.”

While her mother prepared the Tupperware bowls of food, Barb pulled Jonathan through to the living room. “You can wait here. I'm going to grab some stuff. Just a minute.”

She disappeared in a flash and, alone, Jonathan wandered over to the mantel. A row of framed pictures made him smile. He didn't recognize half the faces, but he did know that the little red headed chubby baby had to be Barb. The pictures showed, in silent stillness, as the baby transitioned into a girl. It seemed she could play the piano, and once had hair down to her elbows.

Jonathan most enjoyed the family portraits. A mother and a father, holding onto one another. Three boys, a blonde girl, and then the much younger red headed Barb. They looked so happy to be together.

Must be nice.

: : :

Upstairs, Barb changed out of her old clothes and then, thinking that monster hunting might get messy, she crammed a change of clothes and her first aid kit into an overnight bag. Then she dug her camera out of her closet, then grabbed a pack of printer paper and all her markers to carry out as she left--for the “flyers”.

Downstairs, Jonathan lingered near the mantel, grinning at all the baby Barb pictures. She rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “Oh, God, ignore those.”

“You look so happy in them,” Jonathan said. She blushed. Her mother came in, then, with a handled shopping bag of food-filled tupperware.

“Here you go, Jonathan. I heard about the search party they’re organizing. Barb’s father is always exhausted when he gets in from work, but I am going to _insist_ that we join them tonight.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan murmured.

“You know, I remember when you were little and your mom would bring you by the park while I was there with Barb! For _some reason,_ I was thinking you were older than her! I had no idea you were in her class! She never mentioned it!”

Jonathan blushed and Barb took the bag of food. “We have to get going, Mommy.” She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Love you.”

Her mother kissed her back, saying. “Stay as long as they need you and give me a call whenever you start back on your way home, okay? You know how I worry when you drive after dark. Actually, if it’s too late and they don't mind, you should maybe stay there and get some sleep before school. Okay?”

On the way back to the car, Barbara veered toward the garage, getting a last minute idea.

Beside her all the way, Jonathan gave a breathy chuckle the moment they were outside. “You’re seventeen and you call your mom _Mommy_?”

“Yeah,” Barb said, ignoring the slight flare of embarrassment as she opened the side door to the garage. “So? I'm not calling her _mom_ just to fit in. You shouldn't do somethingjust because people think you should.”

He paused on the doorstep, looking at her strangely.

“ _What_?” she demanded, and went on in.

“Nothing,” he insisted, and followed her.

“I'm the youngest of five,” Barb heard herself explaining, as if that made any difference. “She is just _more_ like a mommy…. _what_?”

“Nothing,” he said again before relenting beneath her threatening glare. “It's just--cute, is all.”

Barb blushed. Jonathan frowned and looked around at the junk taking up the place where cars should be parked. “What are we doing in here?”

“Well, we can't go back there armed with nothing but a camera,” she said. And flipped a switch. Light washed over the piles of boxes and dismatanteled furniture. She turned him towards a rack of swords and axes.

“These are the only weapons my family has. I figure they’ll do better than steak knives.”

Jonathan guffawed in agreement as she pulled one of the broadswords down from the display on the wall. She passed it to him and took down a double headed axe.

“What in the world do you have these for?”

“My eldest brother is a blacksmith at the Renaissance Faire,” she explained. “He makes these as authentically as possible.”

“Jesus,” he said carefully testing the edges. Barb knew it to be dull. Hence why she dug around for the whetstone. When she found it, she laughed triumphantly.

They took a broadsword, a double headed axe and a few daggers--all complete with sheaths and belts--and the sharpening stone, piling it all in the trunk of his car.

Jonathan pulled out of the driveway. “Your family is _really_ cool.”

“We’re nerds,” she shrugged.

“Will would go _crazy_ for stuff like this! He loves all those fantasy books. He plays Dungeons and Dragons and his character is a wizard. He’ll be so sorry he missed out on this.”

“Sounds like a cool kid,” Barb said.

“He is,” Jonathan looked pained but cleared his throat. “I’m surprised your mom is totally okay with you staying over at my place on a school night. She practically _insisted_.”

“Well it's for a good cause. Plus, she trusts me,” Barb said, adding bitterly. “Unlike _other_ people.”

“Nancy assumes you’re as eager to have a boyfriend as she is.”

“And maybe I used to be,” Barb admitted. “But now seeing what it does to a girl’s reasoning skills--yuck. I’ll take a rain check on it, thank you.”

Jonathan chuckled. Then suddenly, he confessed, “My mom always tells me not to be in a hurry to grow up. Said it when I learned to drive. When I got my job. When I started smoking. I'm surprised she didn't say it when she found you in the kitchen this morning. Too distracted, I guess.”

Barb nodded. “It’s good advice. My mom got married and started having babies right after high school. She says she went from being a kid to being a mom. She loves us but she missed out on something. You know?”

“Yeah, I think my mom missed the same thing,” Jonathan said.

“I’m not going to miss out like that,” Barb vowed. “I don't care if they think I'm a prude. Sex leads to babies and babies tie you down.” Barb realized she had shared stuff she never even talked to Nancy about and felt weird. Blushing, she clamped her mouth shut.

But Jonathan agreed. “Exactly! Other things are more important right now. Like making a life for yourself before you have to _provide for a family_. Getting to college is way more important than getting a girlfriend.”

“NYU, right?” Barb asked. He shot her a surprised look.

“Yeah, how'd you know that?”

“You mentioned it the first day of school this year. In Chemistry. And then Mrs. Perry said you’ve got the grades to get in.”

Jonathan smiled humbly with a little blush. “I guess.”

“You're top of the class, aren't you?” She accused. His eyes cut to her guiltily, and she scoffed in mock offense, whacking him on the arm. “I KNEW IT! Mrs. Gillespie would never tell me who was beating me, but I _knew_ it had to be you!”

“You did?” Jonathan asked, seeming surprised.

“After what Mrs. Perry said, yeah! I’ve been trying so hard to beat you all year! This upcoming chemistry test was going to be my shining moment.” Realizing she hadn't studied since the night before last, and that Jonathan certainly couldn't care about a dumb test right now, she lost her pep. “But, you know. There are more important things at hand now, so…”

Jonathan shot her a grateful look and after a minute said, “We’ll find out what this Thing is and get Will back. Then we’ve still got a whole year to battle for valedictorian.” He flashed those dimples at her.

She grinned, heart fluttering strangely. “May the best mind win.”

He parked his car on the shoulder of the road next to the police tape. They opened the trunk and started picking their weapons. Barb couldn't really wield the long and heavy broadsword very well and the axe was almost too heavy to even hold up. She strapped on the belt that held the daggers.

Jonathan settled on the axe, and Barb helped him get into the harness that would strap the weapon to his back. She had been taught by her brother how to hone a blade and did so for their chosen weapons quickly while Jonathan familiarized himself with her camera. She was his only choice for subject. Then, with Jonathan hefting the axe over his shoulder, they set off into the woods.

It felt a little foolish, and she was glad no one was around to see two teenagers carrying medieval weapons through a quiet forest. Whenever their eyes caught, they snorted and snickered at the sight they made.

They looked closely for footprints or any sign of a large animal, but both had to admit to being untrained in the art of tracking. Jonathan snapped a lot of pictures, and Barb didn't always know what the hell he aimed at.

When they reached the edge of Steve’s backyard, they circled around the Harrington house and back to no avail. Barb swallowed bitter disappointed. She had thought for sure there would be footprints or broken twigs or _something._  “Maybe… maybe it only comes out at night.” Jonathan said. “You know Nocturnal.”

“It was night when we saw it,” Barb said. “And it was trying to eat me so it was hunting at night. It adds up.”

“I can't believe there's no trace of it though,” Jonathan said. “And the way it disappeared. Just vanished….D-doesn't make sense.”

Barb kicked at some leaves. “We aren't _crazy_ , right? We both saw it. You TOUCHED it!”

“It was cold,” Jonathan said with a haunted look. “Like touching a side of beef out of the meat locker.”

Barb shivered. “So it's cold blooded. Like a reptile.”

“It didn't like the water,” Jonathan said. “It wasn't going in after you. And when I knocked it in, it vanished.”

“Nocturnal. Reptilian humanoid. Not a swimmer. Teeth. Talons. Can vanish into thin air.”

“The hell is this thing?” Jonathan asked. A rustle made them both whirl and Jonathan fired the shutter instantly. Barb saw nothing but then--a large pale figure moved quickly from behind one tree to another. Long thin arms. Faceless.

With a yelp, Barb scrambled back and then she had hold of Jonathan’s hand and they ran, again, through the woods as fast and hard as they could back toward the car. At least this time she had shoes on.

Crashing loudly through brush, she couldn't hear if it was following them. There were prickles on the back of her neck that made her want to run faster. Jonathan seemed just as spooked.

Halfway back, they met someone in army fatigues. The man had an assault rifle strapped to one shoulder. “Hey!” he barked, aiming the gun right at them.

Jonathan and Barb slid to a stop. Other soldier types emerged from the trees. Barb squeaked with fear. Jonathan's hand tightened on hers, and they stepped closer together instinctively. A quick glance all around proved nothing had been chasing them. The soldiers closed rank on them.

The burly man had a crew cut and no neck, just swollen shoulders. The gun stayed trained on them.

“What are you kids doing out here?” he asked, eyeing the heavy battle axe on Jonathan's back and the decorative daggers on Barb’s hip. His eye fell on the camera around Jonathan's neck, and he pulled out a walkie talkie. “Code Blue.”

“What are your names?” another soldier asked, somewhat threateningly.

“Steve Harrington,” Jonathan said. “This is my girlfriend Nancy Wheeler.”

Barb swallowed her tongue.

“And what are you doing out here _with those_ ,” he pointed at the axe and daggers. Jonathan didn’t have an answer.

“Uh, LARPing?” Barb said. He shot her a grateful look and made sounds of agreement. The soldier made a face.

“What the hell is that?”

Barb glanced at Jonathan, saw he had no idea, and explained as innocently and bubbly as she could. “It stands for Live Action Role Playing! It's really fun. We LARP all the time. I'm a princess and he’s my champion knight and we hunt trolls and dragons together in order to obtain the approval of the magnificent king--”

“Alright, alright,” the soldier batted his hands. “Enough. Playtime is over, kids. You shouldn't be in these woods.”

“Why not?” Jonathan asked. He managed to smirk and grin as if he didn't get it. He hugged her close like an actual boyfriend would. “Me and Nance come here all the time.”

Barb blushed and grinned, leaning into his warm body like she preferred to stand that close. (It felt awkward and weird but she instantly understood the appeal of certain elements of it, like the heat.) “Yes, this is our domain!” she proclaimed like a princess, tossing her head back regally.

“That has changed,” a new voice said. A man in a blue suit and a trench coat had arrived with yet another soldier. The suited man had immaculate hair and a thick mustache. “These woods are becoming a site for military tactical training. Signs are being posted now. This is now officially off limits to civilians. Too dangerous.”

“Oh! Wow! Okay!” Barb cried.

“Sure!” Jonathan said, “We’ll just go then. Plenty of other woods.”

“Before we let you go, I must ask for the camera.”

Jonathan stilled, eyes cutting to the man. “My camera? What for?”

“I cannot give you all of the details. They are classified. Lets just say, some of these soldiers are special forces, deep undercover operatives whose identities must be kept secret.”

“Oh,” his hand in Barb’s shook. “I-I don't think I took any pictures of you guys. Unless you were hiding behind the princess.”

None of them smiled. The man in the blue suit looked less amused than any of them. “You understand we simply can't take the risk. Just the film will do.”

 _Oh god, no, no,_ Barb thought. If these men developed the pictures they would see that there had never been a princess photoshoot, and might even see a picture of the monster and know that their secret was out.

The mustached man held out his hand calmly and deadly. Jonathan relented. Barb released his hand so that he could open the camera. He paused, and then just pulled the film out bare, straight into the light. Whatever he had managed to capture was now lost forever. Barb’s insides swelled at his brilliance.

Jonathan tugged the whole roll out one length at a time, crumpling the film in his fist. Real anger showed in his eyes. “There,” he said, throwing it at their feet. “Our entire afternoon, twenty four perfect pictures of my gorgeous girlfriend ruined for national security. Happy?”

Barb gulped. The man's mustache tilted. “America thanks you, son. Now please allow Lt. Newton to escort you safely out of the proposed war zone.”

“This way. Pick up the pace,” Newton said roughly. He marched them at a rapid pace toward the road. Barb took hold of Jonathan’s hand again. He looked angry and worried. He’d been brilliant to destroy the film in a teenage tantrum but now they had to sell their stories.

“I know it sucks,” she said in a comforting tone, “but we can redo the photo shoot somewhere else.”

He glanced at her. A shallow dimple appeared and vanished, and he asked petulantly. “Where else? You're a princess of _Mirkwood_ forest.”

The Hobbit reference made her smile. “Yes, but our quest can take us into the East,” she said. “We’ll borrow my brother’s old canoe and do some shots out on the lake.”

“Maybe at sunrise?” he suggested with a twinkle in his eye. She giggled.

“Oh, it'll be so magical!”

Brightened and happy, he gave her a twirl. “I eagerly await the day, m’lady!”

Up ahead, their act paid off as Newton groaned. “Since when do knights fucking have _cameras_?”

Jonathan's brows lowered with annoyance. Barb quickly jumped in.  “Oh, his brother is a wizard and has devised me a spell to capture in time any moment--”

Newton snorted cutting in, “You geeks have an answer for everything.”

Jonathan used a loud, booming voice. “Tis a vast and magical land filled with many magical wonders!”

Barb doubled over to suppress her giggles. Newton didn't see, marching ahead of them and the man sounded as annoyed as Jonathan had been acting. “Alright. _Shut up._ Jesus. Fucking. Christ they always make me deal with the weirdoes. There's your car.” He pointed through the trees at Jonathan’s car. “Don't come back into these woods. You'll get yourselves killed. _This isn't a game_.”

“Yessir,” Jonathan said, seriously. Barb stopped her antics and nodded somberly. “Yessir.”

They felt Newton’s eyes on them as they went to the car and unloaded their weapons in the trunk. When Newton turned his back on them and headed back into the woods, gruffing code phrases into his walkie talkie, it finally felt safe to break character. Barb helped get Jonathan out of the axe harness.

“That was smart thinking with the film,” she praised dully. She felt kind of woosy.

“You did great,” he said in the same flat tone of shock. “You're a good actress.”

“When my life depends on it,” she snorted dryly. Chill bumps lifted on her skin. “Man. This is _so much more_ serious than we thought.”

“Yeah.” His eyes burned. “They _must_ have Will. You know, Hopper figures Will made it home that night. If that Thing got in the house after him and he ran for help, then he would have told the first grown up he met what was chasing him. And if those guys were hot on its trail then… They can't have a kid talking about a monster and soldiers in the woods who saved him.”

“They're holding him hostage until they catch it,” Barb agreed. Excitement flooded her. His brother _might actually still be alive!_ She could see the hope burning bright in his eyes.

She hugged him tightly. “We’ll get him back.”


	5. Busted Cameras and Battle Axes

After hugging the girl until their shared hope made them breathless, Jonathan pulled away with a very loud stomach growl. “Let's get something to eat. I'm starving.”

He drove into town with new found energy that reflected in Barb. To their surprise, they found Benny’s Burgers closed up with police tape, so hit the pizza place instead. Jonathan couldn't help but wonder if the surprise suicide had anything to do with the monster. People with licenses to kill could make murder look like suicide, right?

Together he and Barb devoured a small pizza as they whispered about “you know who being you know where” and Jonathan couldn't stop smiling and eating. He was so hungry, he honestly couldn't remember the last time he ate so much.

He felt like he had Will back, just for knowing where he was. Because Will just had to be in that lab--it made so much sense. Chain of logic said that they wouldn't be mistreating him, either, because as soon as the monster was caught they'd need to let him go with no trouble. He was probably in a little room with a box of crayons, drawing a hundred pictures and being assured Mom knew where he was.

“I bet he is driving them crazy with a hundred questions a minute. Will loves learning new things. He’s probably asking all about army life and combat and talking about knights and trolls and stuff. That Newton guy probably loves that."

Barb’s excited laughter rose above the noise of the evening dinner crowd and Jonathan felt surreal. He just made a girl laugh. At dinner....

Was this a date?

He drained his glass to ease the sudden dryness of his mouth. No way could this be a date. Just because it was a date like setting--and other kids their age were here _definitely_ on dates--did not mean it was one.

He took a deep breath. Just friends having food....

That didn't help. Jonathan had as much practice with friends as he did dates.

All at once, the energy kick fizzled out. His arms and legs suddenly felt heavy. Blinking gave him a headache. The meal in his stomach churned once, forcing him to drop a crust and lean away from the table.

Barb sipped her cola and frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

Jonathan nodded automatically, then saw the concern in her eyes and shook his head. Pressing cold fingertips to his eyes, he shook his head. “I'm just tired. Sorry.”

“It's been a long day,” she agreed. “Man, I can't believe the pool party was last night. Feels like forever ago.”

Jonathan nodded again, thinking of all the things he had learned about Barb and all the stupid drama at school, plus missing classes and work in order to handle Will’s disappearance. More happened today than generally happened in a week. Not to mention seeing a monster _twice_ and meeting the deadly side of the American Government.

“I should get home,” Jonathan said flatly. It really started to press into him how many hours he had left her alone with those fritzy lamps. “My mom….”

“Totally.”

On their way out, they passed a group of jocks and cheerleaders passed in the parking lot. Among them was Nicole who laughed. “Pervs,” she said, as the meathead she was with knocked hard into Jonathan's shoulder.

“ _Ignore them_ ,” Barb said, pulling Jonathan toward the car.

He moved to the passenger side automatically. His headache was just getting worse by the second and he didn't want to keep his eyes open. Barb got behind the wheel with no question about it.

In fact, she was too quiet.

Jonathan felt his spirit sink again at the memory of those damn pictures of Nancy. What the hell had he been thinking? The trouble was, he hadn’t been. He’d just followed the muse with no regard to boundaries. And now Barb was uncomfortable.

So they didn't say a single word for the whole drive back to his house.

Apparently, Nicole was telling the entire school that they were a couple of weirdos. Jonathan wished more than anything that people like her would just _grow up_ already. No one was perfect and sometimes people did things they regretted and one incident shouldn't be enough to drag a person-- and all associated with them--through the mud. High school was seriously _the WORST._

A figure emerged from the fog in the headlights, running down the center of the road. Barb slammed on the breaks. Jonathan sucked in a sharp breath. “ _Mom_?”

Barb gasped. “What the--?”

Jonathan scrambled out of the car with loud questions. The woman looked wild eyed and pale as a ghost.

“Jonathan!” she cried. “Will! It’s Will! Oh god, I talked to him--a-and this _thing_ \--and--the lights, the lights, Jonathan! H-he told me to run, R-U -N, run so I ran. It-it was going to kill me!”

Jonathan held her tightly, frightened by the things she said. The monster _had been in the house._

Sirens in the distance made them turn their head. A moment later their flashing lights came up the lane.

: : : :

Police had filed into the house with grim faces. Barb felt sick as the Chief started talking to Joyce. He said it gently with so much pain in his eyes and everything just seemed to _stop._

“The earth must have given way…”

A body. Will’s body. The facts sank in and Barb covered her mouth. Jonathan brushed past her to stand closer to his mother, who argued that she had just spoken to Will a half hour ago. The grief on Hopper’s face was too real and Barb looked away, feeling...flat.

She was in shock again, probably. Because the chief of police stood here in front of her saying they just pulled a twelve year old’s body out of the lake and Barb didn't feel….anything. Or at least, she didn't think she did. Her heart kept beating at its usual tempo. Her breathing seemed fine. She wasn't too hot or cold. She just….stood there, awkwardly listening to this tragedy.

Maybe part of it was Joyce’s conviction that none of it was even happening. Barb could hear it in the woman's voice and see it in her face. She _absolutely_ believed what she was saying. It made it super easy for Barb to believe, too.

And then the woman described the monster. Long arms. No face.

Barb went cold.

Jonathan went rigid, and his breathing shallowed. Barb took a half step forward to speak, but he suddenly balled his fists and ran out of the room. Barb spun as their shoulders brushed and followed close at his heels, but still got the door slammed in her face.

“Jon!” she called through it.  
  
Pushing her way in, she saw him collapse on his bed, shoulders shaking with sobs. Barb went to a knee beside him on the mattress. Her eyes pricked with tears but hope had swelled in her.

“Did you hear your mom? She saw the thing too. That's three eye witness accounts! We need to go back out there and tell the chief--”

“Tell him _what_?” Jonathan bit angrily, voice choked. Snot oozed from his nose and he wiped it away. “What’s it matter? You heard him! They just found Will floating face down in the lake! He’s dead! What's it matter how he got that way?”

She grit her teeth. “ _It matters_. If that Thing killed him then--”

“Then nothing! It’s our word against theirs, do you really think anyone will believe us? My little brother is dead because some freak mutant chased him out of the house and into the water a-and the government is just going to cover it up. If we say anything, th-they’ll kill us and make it look like another accident.”

Barb lost her breath. He was absolutely right. Tears finally fell from her eyes. Before she knew it she gasped for breath.

Jonathan’s tears doubled and he pulled her into a hug. Her glasses went askew against his strong shoulder. This was one of the hardest cries she had ever had--and her mind seemed oddly clear. Stark, sharp thoughts ran through her mind on tracks.

Facts.

The fact that a little boy was dead. The fact that it was Jonathan’s brother. The fact that her friend would now have to live with this gaping hole in his life.

They knew what really killed him and were completely powerless to do anything about it; except hope and pray those soldiers were trained enough to catch a vanishing mutant monster before it killed again.

Will had been chased by the Thing. His final moments on earth, running through the dark, terrified. Then falling, falling….

Barb sobbed and gasped. God, it wasn't fair. Why did that cliff have to be so high? If only _if only_ he had been able to survive the fall; the monster wouldn't have gone in after him. He would still be alive, the same way Barb was still alive. Jonathan would still have a brother.

“It's not fair,” she whispered, hugging him close, sniffing. Her lips and nose trembled; she dabbed at her wet nostrils and removed her glasses.

Jonathan fell slowly to his side, and Barb went with him like a magnet, fitting against him. The soft cotton of his shirt absorbed her tears. The worst of the cry seemed to have passed, at least for now. If she dwelled on what it must have been like for Will then the tears quickened so her mind flexed away from it all. Jonathan became her focus; his tears just seemed to be building and building.

“I know it's not fair!” she whispered when he whimpered. He cussed and gulped and fresh tears spilled out.

Barb pulled him close. He rested his head on her shoulder, arms locked tight around his own body. She draped an arm over him, trying her best to offer comforting rubs to his arm. “I'm so sorry, Jonathan!”

He buried his face in her armpit, and sobbed. Hot tears soaked into her bra. He sniffed and sobbed and shook violently with anguish. Barb held him tighter, choking on attempted soothing sounds.

His alarm clock had yet to be reset so she had no clock to mark the time, and the night seemed endless. Barb didn't remember falling asleep, but she noted the way Jonathan's breathing had slowed, even as salty tears still slid out of his closed eyes.

Some kind of nightmare robbed her of rest without even the decency to linger in her memory so that waking up before dawn felt simultaneously like a release and a punishment.

Jonathan had turned over on his front with his face off the bed.

Donning her glasses, Barb tiptoed to the bathroom and changed into the soft clothes Jonathan had lent her, then she checked the living room. Joyce slept on the couch, sitting up. Barb carefully maneuvered the dark living room and tried to spread a blanket out on her, but something heavy slipped from the woman’s lap. The handle of an axe thumped to the floor.

Joyce woke with a start and a soft gasping scream. Barb caught her frail shoulders. “It's me! I'm sorry!”

“B-Barb? What time is it?”

“Still dark. I didn't mean to wake you. I was just trying…” she draped the blanket over the tiny woman. Joyce scooted over and patted the couch. “Here, sweetie, get under here and get warm.”

Barb was a little chilled without socks on. She sat next to the woman, who shared the throw and held her close like mothers do. “Are you okay?”

An actual snort left Barb involuntarily. “I'm more concerned for you. And Jonathan.”

“How is he?”

“Asleep. Finally. You should be too,” Barb said, with as much authority as she could inject into the soft whisper volume they had adopted. “I shouldn't have woken you, Mrs. Byers.”

“No, no,” she said, fumbling in the floor. She brought the axe up and eyed the wall. “Call me Joyce. And I need to be awake in case that Thing comes back.”

Barb caught her breath and lifted the blanket to her chin with a look at the wall. “Do you think it will?”

Joyce turned big wet eyes on her. “You believe me?”

Barb looked back at her and nodded.

“Oh. Thank you. Barb, really. You have done so much! You, you've been here for Jonathan when he needed someone!” She stroked Barb’s hair above her ear, a maternal gesture of endless appreciation. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to save Will for you,” she said.

“We still can save him!” Joyce insisted. “H-he’s in the lights. He’s talking to me. He said he was alive.”

“They found his body, though,” Barb said gently.

“He’s in the lights.”

“Joyce I think...what if it's his spirit?”

“He said he was alive,” Joyce repeated.

“Maybe he only thinks he is,” Barb whispered, feeling goosebumps under the blanket. Joyce tilted her head against that kind of notion.

Barb used to not believe in ghosts, but since the boogey man was real….

Joyce had hard resolve in her voice, “Nope. Will is alive. A mother just knows.”

Since the woman literally had an axe in her hands, Barb decided not to press it. Silence fell and then Joyce patted her knee. “You go back to bed, sweetie. In case Jonathan wakes up. I’ll stand watch on the wall, in case….”

Barb knew a direct order when she heard one. She gave Joyce the rest of the blanket and tiptoed back to Jonathan’s room. He hadn't moved an inch. She climbed carefully back into the bed and almost forgot to remove her glasses again. As she shifted to put them on the bed side table, Jonathan startled, mumbled, and rolled up against her.

She settled against his warmth, blinked--and it was like skipping two hours. Suddenly, light filled the room, but she wasn't any more rested. Stretching her arms up above her head caused the heavy thing on her shoulder to shift and settle on her chest instead.

The weight of Jonathan’s head settled on her breasts. She had only ever held her baby nephews and nieces like this. The only thing her mind went to was how holding babies this way comforted them immensely and no doubt Jonathan needed the peace.

A moment later, he lifted off her breasts with a sharp intake of breath. Still somewhat stunned, she blinked at him--or rather the blur of him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, returning her personal space. Barb found her glasses and sat them on her nose. He came into sharp focus, bags under his puffy eyes, and bed hair.

“'Sokay,” she said, wondering if what had just happened warranted an apology. Somehow it did and didn't at the same time, which made _no sense_.

Definitely sleeping on the couch next time.

: : : :

Jonathan let her have the bathroom first and sat on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. He had actually slept, but more surprising was the way Will _hadn't_ been the first thing to cross his mind when waking. He could still feel Barb’s soft, warm boobs against his face, even now that he _did_ remember that Will was _dead_ , so the guilt of being distracted by flesh was enough to feel sick.

Definitely sleeping on the couch next time.

: : : :

Barb made coffee. Joyce had fallen asleep again on the couch, and the girl worked quietly so as not to disturb her. She noted the dog dish was low on water and empty of food so she topped off the water bowl and quietly opened cabinets until she found the bag of food.

Hearing the rattle of kibble, the dog padded out of Will’s room and straight to the door where he whined. Barb let him out, spotting the chief's truck out there. Frowning, she poured the first cup of the coffee and carried it out there.

The chief had his hat over his face, snoring. She tapped lightly on the window. The man jerked and looked at her with sagging, tired eyes. The glass rolled down, his voice sounded rough. “Morning.”

“Did you spend the night here?” Barb asked.

The man looked her up and down, taking in the barefeet, pajamas, and steaming cup of coffee.

“Did _you_?” he shot back. Barb scoffed and held out the mug. He eyed the steaming coffee. “That for me?”

She nodded. He took it and tilted it into his face and choked. He scrunched his face in disgust. “God. No sugar?”

Barb snorted and crossed her arms. “What am I, your personal assistant?”

His lips tilted in a smile, and he gestured with the mug toward the house. “How they doing?”

“He slept some. She slept even less.”

The front door opened and Joyce stepped outside, ready to go. Hopper climbed out of the truck with a suppressed groan of stiffness and met Joyce at the steps. Barb ducked past them with a smile at Joyce, who patted her shoulder on the way by.

Jonathan was in the kitchen, at the coffee pot.

“Thanks,” he said softly, mostly to her bare toes.

Barb blinked. He glanced at her face and said, “for last night.”

Her throat closed. _Oh_ , she thought rather dumbly.

The whole night replayed through her mind, how close they'd held one another and had even woken up in each other's arms. His head pillowed by her breasts. Weirdly…. intimate.

She smiled at him. “I wanted to help.”

He lifted his chin in a short nod. “You did.”

Warmth spread over her ears, and she sort of squeezed-pushed his shoulder. Even having been the first up, she was the last dressed--this mainly had to do with the fact that everyone else slept in their day clothes--so she hurried to get ready.

Then Hopper’s voice, loud and authoritative, boomed from outside the house. “Hey, kids, come _on_ if you're riding with us!”

“We’ll follow in my car,” Jonathan called.

Barb hurried to tie her shoes and drag her fingers through her tangled bed head before going out to Jonathan’s car with him.

“I can drop you at your house if….”

“Oh,” she blinked. “I guess you could if you would rather do this alone--i--”

“No!” he said, quickly. “I just wasn't sure if--”

They stopped talking over each other with matching blushes. After a beat, he cranked the car and followed Hopper up the lane. “I don't think I can do this alone,” he said measuredly, fisting the wheel.

Barb pointedly looked at the truck ahead of them. “You have your mom.”

He sighed. “I meant. I can't take care of her on my own.”

“Oh,” she swallowed and tucked her hair behind an ear. “Okay. Then I'm coming with you. Whatever you need.”

He relaxed, just a little, into his seat. A short stretch of road later, he turned on the radio.


	6. A Friend to Lean On

Barb waited out in the lobby with Hopper as Joyce and Jonathan stepped into the back to see the body. Tired, lonely minutes ticked by before the chief spoke.

“Sorry, I missed your name?”

“Barb Holland.”

He frowned. “I know a Doug Holland.”

“My dad.”

Brightening just a bit, he could have been in a bank lobby. “No kidding? You’re mom, then, she’s a Carpenter, right?”

Barb shrugged and shook her head. “Yyyeah…?”

“I was in school with her kid sister Chrissy,” he said with a grin.

Barb shrugged. “Okay.”

Hop grunted and waved it aside as if realizing the pointlessness of small town chitchat. Awkward silence returned. Hop sighed and shifted in his chair. At length he spoke to the receptionist.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Sorry, things have been crazy without Gary.”

“Without Gary? What happened to Gary?”

“Those guys from state sent him home last night.”

“So who did the autopsy?”

The woman shrugged. “Someone from state.”

Hopper and Barb traded a look, and it was clear to Barb that this sounded as much like a cover up to him as it did to her. The sheer scope of this thing occurred to Barb one more time and sitting here next to a grown up made her see the ridiculousness of two teenagers trying to handle it alone. She opened her mouth the spill all she knew but the doors across the room burst open.

Jonathan came out of the room on shaky legs, looking way too pale and dead eyed. Hopper shot to his feet and Barb did, too, bounding forward.

She held him up by the elbows, his trembling fingers curled into her sleeves as she led him to a chair.

“He’s--he’s--” Jonathan choked.

Sitting beside him, Barb stroked his back. Jon covered his eyes and broke down.

Hopper paced, hat in hand, bent a little to peer through the small window of the door for signs of Joyce, then resumed pacing. When his eyes locked on the crying Jonathan, he returned to his seat on the other side of the young man.

Jonathan straightened, now under control. He sat and stared straight ahead. Barb didn't know what to do or say. Catching Hopper’s eye, she saw that the cop didn't know what to do or say either. They sat there with Jonathan between them.

“So,” Hopper broke the silence. “How long has this been going on, with the lights and the wall and stuff?”

Barb rolled her lips between her teeth and deferred to Jonathan. Now was the moment to defend Joyce by admitting they had also seen the monster.

“Since the first phone call, I guess,” he admitted.

Hopper sighed, hanging his head.

“She’s had anxiety problems before…” Jonathan hedged and Barb shot him a look. _What the hell_? Was he just trying to brush her off as crazy?

Hell, no. “We think it's more than that, though,” Barb started.

Jonathan shot her a _firm_ warning expression and cut in, “She’s been through a lot. It’s not easy… but we’re going to be okay. My mom... She’s tough.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hopper said knowingly enough to catch Barb’s attention. The Chief reached and gripped Jonathan’s shoulder exactly like her own father did her brothers all the time. A look passed between the two men. Barb, silently uninvolved, received _major_ fatherly vibes.

Sensing that the surly Chief truly cared for Jonathan and Joyce, Barb gave the man a little smile when their eyes briefly met. Hopper went back to staring at the door, waiting for Joyce.

Barb took the opportunity and silently begged Jonathan with her eyes to just tell Hopper the truth. She gave him a _significant_ look, but Jonathan returned it with another firm warning expression; he still didn't think it was a good idea to say anything.

Rolling her eyes, Barb huffed and decided she was going to do it--Jonathan grabbed her arm to stop her--but before she could say a word, Joyce burst out looking wild eyed and pissed.

“That _thing_ is not my son!” she screamed and stormed out, nearly breaking the door as she left a room of people looking horrified.

Jonathan ran after her, leaving Barb behind feeling helpless. She gaped a little at Hopper, who stood there looking pained and tired. He clenched his jaw and locked his eyes on her. "I’ll handle things here. Go take care of them.”

Knowing the direct order came from a loving place, she nodded curtly at the chief and ran after Jonathan. The car was gone. Barb spotted it a little ways down the street, in a new parking space. He had hopped out and caught up to Joyce on the other side of the crosswalk. Barb hurried that way.

As she crossed the street, Joyce began shouting at Jonathan. “I AM GOING TO BRING HIM HOME!”

Passersby stopped to watch; only Barb approached, feeling slightly awkward for it.

Jonathan blew up at his mother,

“YEAH, WHILE YOU’RE TALKING TO THE LIGHTS THE REST OF US ARE HAVING A FUNERAL FOR WILL!” Barb grabbed his jacket with soft words but he ignored her, screaming at Joyce’s back. “I’M NOT LETTING HIM STAY IN THAT FREEZER ANOTHER DAY!”

Barb got him to turn his back and she dropped an arm over his shoulders. “The show’s over!” he snapped at the nearby onlookers.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said lowly, pulling him to the car. He glared at the people still staring at them. “What?”

“Shh, just ignore them. They’re idiots.”

He climbed into the passenger’s side so Barb got behind the wheel. He silently passed the keys over but she didn't start the car. She looked over at him. “According to the receptionist, the State took over the autopsy. Even Hopper thinks it's a cover up! So maybe Joyce is right; there is a _chance_ he's out there, don’t you think?”

Jonathan sniffed with a morose shake of his head. “No, Barb. If it is a cover up, it’s just to hide the true cause of death--he wouldn't get teeth marks from falling off a cliff.”

Barb felt sick. “Oh god, did you see teeth marks--?”

“No, no. They wouldn't let us get near but…It's him, Barb. It's Will. He’s gone.”

Jonathan cried a little more.

Barb sat with him, crying a little herself. This was like the time the Wheelers’ dog was hit by a car and Barb had let Nancy cry on her shoulder, only it wasn't like that at all because Will was a person, a baby brother, and it wasn't an accident. He'd been _hunted_.

Gasping in fear and misery, Barb muffled a sob. Jonathan reached over and took her hand. His fingers were cold but soft.

She gave him a squeeze, hoping to convey whatever he needed to hear. Like that Will was in a better place or he didn't feel any pain--God, she hoped he didn't feel anything….

A car horn, tapped lightly, made them both look around in time to see Hopper roll by in the truck. He tipped his hat at Barb. She gave him a wobbly smile. The storm of her grief had passed like a cloud in front of the sun, a dark shadow that fell and then slithered off somewhere else.

Jonathan drew a deep breath. “I...I need to start planning his burial….Where do I even start?”

She had no earthly idea. One set of grandparents were gone and their funerals had been nice, gentle affairs full of old people, distant relatives, and the comforting concept of a long and happy life lived. A funeral for kid was something entirely different.

Barb chewed her lip and then fished her purse from the floorboard. “I’ll be right back.”

She went to the payphone at the corner and called home. Her mother answered and gasped. “Oh, honey! I saw the news this morning! How is Jonathan? And Joyce? Oh, god I can't even imagine!”

Barb’s eyes pricked. “Um. That’s why I'm calling. Joyce is, she’s just shutting down? And Jonathan needs to plan the funeral but I mean we don't even know where to start!”

“I’m on my way,” her mother said.

Returning to the car, Barb slid in behind the wheel and drove to the funeral home her mother had directed her to use. Jonathan got out but Barb stopped him from going into the building, explaining that her mother was on the way.

Jonathan’s eyebrows swooped low. “I don't want to bother her with this!”

“Bother?” Barb scoffed in disbelief. “It’s not a bother, Jonathan, she wants to help you and your mom the same as I do.”

Jonathan’s forehead wrinkled and he looked long and hard at her. Barb tried not to fidget under his gaze. He blinked and huffed. “Is this just because I saved your life? Because, you know, you don't _owe_ me anything, Barb.”

Called out, Barb crossed her arms and looked down. “That’s not... _okay_ , at first, yeah. I felt indebted to you. Then we became friends. Right?”

He blushed, then smiled and nodded. “Right.”

“Friends help friends,” Barb said simply, stating the most fundamental law. She spotted her mother’s car and straightened. “There she is.”

The woman met Jonathan with condolences, a hug, and then got straight to business. In a comforting respectful way, she asked after family religion and personal tastes and budget. Jonathan answered in his soft spoken way and Barb took notes and made some of the phone calls.

By the time that was done, Barb had a moment alone with her mother as Jonathan made a payment plan. Mom combed the hair over her ears. “You look tired.”

“I'm okay.” She batted the woman’s hands away, looking down the hall at Jonathan sitting stonily at the proprietor's desk. “Jonathan and Joyce are worse off...”

She felt her mother’s eyes on her and heard it in her voice. “So… do you _like_ him?”

“What?” She blushed. “He just lost his _brother_. He needs a friend. That’s all it is.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously, if there was anymore going on… I’d tell you.” She met the woman’s eyes and felt the truth of it. “If I so much as kissed him, I’d want to tell you. It's just been hugs, though, okay? I promise.”

“Oh, I believe you.” She relented with a teasing wink. She squeezed Barb around the shoulders. “You’re _so good,_ baby.” She kissed Barb on the forehead and sighed. “I never have to worry about you. You've got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Thanks, Mommy.”

“But you _do_ look exhausted. Isn’t anyone else helping out?”

“Uh, yeah,” Barb lied with a twist of guilt in her stomach. Here her mother praised her trustworthiness and Barb had to lie to her face.

Some daughter.

Thinking fast of Chief Hopper’s loving eyes as he gripped Jonathan’s shoulder, she felt it wasn't too much of a lie when she said, “Chief Hopper is a family friend so he’s been around whenever he can spare a minute. And, well, a few of us from school made the flyers and stuff back when we thought… but now… Thanks for helping out with this, Mom. His dad isn’t around and his mom is… well, she’s shutting down on him.”

Her mother shed some tears. “That's too much responsibility for a boy his age. Oh, I know teenagers hate to hear it but you two are still _babies_ in my eyes and there is nothing in the world harder for me than seeing babies have to grow up and face the world.”

“Right now I _feel_ like a baby,” she confessed, eyes stinging. “Mommy, they’re good people going through _so much_ and I don't know how to help them through it!”

“Oh, I hate it for you, Barbie, but this is the rotten side of life. Sometimes our friends need to lean on us and it's all we can do not to fall down. Allowing you to shirk that part of friendship isn't going to help you be the person you're supposed to be. You're growing up and for whatever reason, this is how your training wheels are coming off.”

“Put them back on.” Barb sniffed. Her mother laughed and kissed her hair.

“Oh, sweetie, I'm right here for you. But Jonathan has no one, right? He needs someone good like you. So just be there, sweetie. Like you've been. Oh, you are _such_ a kind and loving person. You're the blessing him and his mother need right now. When that kind of duty calls us, we have to obey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, didn't go to Jonathan's POV because identifying your dead brother's body is too dark and angsty for me to handle right now.


	7. Even Good Girls Tell Lies

When her mother left to arrange the wake dishes and flower arrangements with local mothers, Barb rejoined Jonathan in his car. The seats and steering wheel had warmed in the sun, and it felt nice after lingering for so long in the chilly parking lot with her mother. She sighed and closed her eyes against the warm rays of the sun.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked.

Barb stirred and blinked at the boy. How could he be worried about her in a time like this? They just planned his little brother's funeral. Her voice cracked a little for some reason. “Yeah.” She shook her head and shrugged too. “I will be. You?”

She reached over and squeezed Jonathan’s shoulder in order to fully deflect away from herself, and make him see:  _ Jonathan _ was what mattered right now.

He gulped audibly, expressive eyes going distant and cold. “I...I don't know anymore.”

Barb pulled him into a hug and squeezed him as hard as she could with the awkward seat angle. “I have an idea that might help you, and your mom.”

“What?” The question was small and soft against her shoulder.

Barb hesitated and then just bit the bullet. They separated and she started the car. “We get proof the monster exists and that it killed Will, and we tell the whole town. They can't silence a whole town, can they? The truth will come out. Wouldn't that help, just a little? For everyone to know how it happened? I think for your mom--”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said, stronger now. “I think it would help her too. None of this was her fault and I want the world to know that. I need them to know that.”

She nodded. “Then we expose the truth.”

 

In her driveway, Barb noted aloud that her father was home. Jonathan slouched low in the seat and she could sense that the last thing he wanted to do was talk to more people. She vowed to be in and out and hurried inside. Her mother was in the kitchen, on the phone with the other mothers about tomorrow. Dad was still in his work clothes and wrapped an arm around her. “There’s my princess! We miss you around here.”

Mom spoke past the phone in her hand. “Barb, Nancy called you from school. She really wants to talk to you.”

Barb couldn't help rolling her eyes. Not at the fact that her best friend wanted to talk things out but because the whole stupid fight was so pointless in comparison to the real problems she had to deal with first. “Yeah. Okay. I will.”

“Staying for dinner?”

“Sorry, Dad,” she said. “But I can't. Jon’s out in the car.”

“Well tell him to come in.”

“Dad, no. He’s not in the mood. We just planned a funeral.”

The look that flickered across the man’s face made him look even older. “Just then I saw adult Barb.”

“Well...a lot has been happening lately. I am growing up.”

He followed her up the stairs, stern faced. “And just what do you mean by that? What all have you been up to over there?”

Barb literally gasped. “Helping Mrs. Byers!”

“Uh-huh. And what about that teenaged boy of hers. What kind of help does he need?”

With a real smirk, she tilted her head at her father. “I know mama told you nothing has happened between us.”

“She did. But I want to know how he acts around you.”

“He's a perfect gentleman, dad, don't worry.”

“I'll worry all I want, young lady.”

“Dad, c’mon. Seriously? Would I ever do something that crazy with a boy I met last Tuesday?”

“You want to help, Barb, and a teenage boy could be pretty persuasive about what he needs in a situation like this. Just  _ think _ before you do anything. Don't, I don't know, hang out with him in his room or, or compromise yourself just to make him stop crying.”

She actually laughed, head dropped back. “Oh my god. You seriously think--” then seeing his face she reigned in the sarcasm. A real smile spread across her face and she gave her dad a hug. “I love that you're so worried. But I've been sleeping on the couch.”

He looked relieved. Barb turned her back to pack a new overnight bag with funeral clothes, and comforted herself with the notion of a white lie. The inherent truth was that nothing was going on, so why blur lines by talking about being in the boy’s bed?

“I take care of the dog and make breakfast. That sort of thing. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s what all the kids say right before they do something stupid.”

Guilt pooled in her stomach as she thought about how sleeping in the same bed with him last night had been pretty reckless--the consequences hadn't even occurred to her until she’d woken up with a boy’s head on her chest. (A phantom feeling that could too easily be called to mind at the drop of a hat. Comfortable, warm, safe. Yikes, her dad really knew what he was talking about.) “The stupidest thing I've done is not study as hard as I should for that test on Monday.”

He hugged her and admitted lowly. “Mom told me the funeral is tomorrow. Does that mean we get you back Monday afternoon?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she huffed. All at once she desperately needed to tell her father the truth about the stupid party at Steve’s, the monster, Jonathan saving her life, seeing the monster again, being threatened by soldiers with guns, and the cover up surrounding the cause of death of a little boy.

She wanted to tell him so he could help her like she knew he would, but she also knew better. What could a non athletic insurance adjuster do? The fewer people involved in this mess, the better. At the sound of her choked voice, Dad twisted his face sympathetically and hugged her tightly once again.

“I know this sort of thing can be overwhelming and Mom said it’s causing problems with you and Nancy, but you’re following your instincts and putting those in need before yourself, and I couldn't be prouder of you, sweetpea.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

: : : :

Will didn't believe in doing nothing.

The thought pierced Jonathan’s grief and injected him with sharp focus. Barb was right. Something had to be done about this monster before anyone else was hurt. Doing nothing was the same as helping the monster feed on innocent children. Will the Wise wouldn't stand for that.

Jonathan straightened eagerly when Barb finally came back out of the house. Not for the first time since befriending her, he was truly struck by the story her picture told.

This tall girl, academically gifted and proud, nerdy and unashamed but quiet and defensive, riddled with sarcasm. She wasn't trying to be someone else --but she wasn't quite fully Barb either. She still marched under the orders of caring parents and teachers. But one day, she would set her own rules and make her own plans. Jonathan wondered where she might end up. A big city somewhere or a leading member of Hawkins PTA? He hoped nothing held her back, or trapped her here.

She had her bag slung over one shoulder, and more tupperware bowls under one arm. He leaned over the driver's seat and collected the bowls to help her. She dropped behind the wheel and tossed her bag into the backseat.

“So I've been thinking,” Jonathan said, “and we need to go to school. I can brighten and enlarge the original photograph and that might be all the proof Hop needs.”

The smile that broke across her face showed her pearly teeth and sharpened her chin. Her eyelashes fluttered with a relieved eye roll. “ _ That _ would be so amazing. I was a little worried about running into those soldiers again.”

“Me too. If we can avoid it, we should.”

After school programs were still in progress so the school doors were unlocked. Jonathan and Barb slipped in the backway and into the Arts wing. The photography lab greeted Jonathan with the usual smells and silence. He was the only student that used this room freely; the rest were students simply completing their yearly photography assignment with family portraits or landscapes.

Barb watched with interest as he began to develope the original photo of the monster, brightening and enlarging it. He tried to ignore her, but the usually comforting silence pressed on them both so that they fidgeted awkwardly.

She broke the silence with a light, “um. So how long does this take?”

Tense shoulders relaxing, he used tweezers to lift the photograph out of the fixer and submerged it in the final wash. “Not long…..here.”

The monster now filled the frame, still too dark and a little fuzzy, but definitely an alien with a faceless head and gross, long arms. Barb noticeably shivered and moved closer to him. “There it is.”

“So we take this to Hop and tell him everything we know.”

“We should tell your mom too. We need her as another eye witness.”

Jonathan sighed. “Then we wait until after the funeral.”

Barb nodded. “Okay.”

On their way through the art studio, she pointed at the framed pictures on the walls. “Are any of these yours?”

“That one,” he pointed to the silhouette of Will and his friends biking into a sunset. Looking at it, his chest hurt.  _ Will _ .

“Wow. that's really good. Do you have any more I can see?”

Jonathan pulled his portfolio from the shelf and shyly handed it over.

He watched her facial expressions every time she turned the page: a soft smile tilted higher and higher as she advanced through the years of his work; it made him feel  _ good _ and proud.

And as he covertly studied her, he analyzed the different times he had seen this girl change herself. Only twice. The first time, when she had unfolded from a patio chair and tried to shotgun a beer had only proved Jonathan's working theory about highschool girls. But then after they escaped the monster together--and he sensed it was  _ because _ of the monster--Barb Holland never again folded herself up on the sidelines, nor did she attempt to impress anyone. For the last few days she had been at war with her only friend simply because she was done with the bullshit.

The second time Barb had acted differently had been for the soldiers, for  _ actual _ self preservation. She’d turned herself into a bubbly, out-going girlfriend. But she dropped the act completely and became Barb again, because she actually knew who Barb was. Not a lot of girls Jonathan knew could do that so effectively. Everyone else bumped into each other and influenced each other as if personality could be transmitted like germs. But Barb was immune.

He wished he had the camera out so that he could snap a quick picture before she looked up. He wanted to document this moment--the first time he shared his work with a friend, the first friend he could trust, this girl sitting with her heels planted shoulder width, spine curled to examine the pictures on her knee. Her short red curls sort of unkempt, her glasses at the edge of her nose, two big freckles asymmetric on her pale neck.

When she caught him staring, she rolled her eyes. “What?”

Jonathan looked away guiltily and scrambled for a casual question. “So, uh. You’ve never mentioned any of your hobbies. What do you like to do?”

“Oh. Nothing this interesting. Lately I've just been on the phone with Nancy or studying or shopping. But before I met her, I read a lot.”

“The Hobbit?” he guessed. She shrugged with a visible attempt to  _ not _ roll her eyes and deliver some sarcastic line. It robbed her of her ability to look directly at him. Jonathan let her off the hook by focusing on returning the portfolio to its shelf, but said, “What else? Do you like Stephen King?”

“I haven't read any. I’m working my way through classic american authors. I sort of have a thing for Hemingway right now.”

“Do you think you'd ever write a book?”

“Like Hemingway? No,” she laughed, became pensive, and then said, “I do like to write though. If I was going to make a living from it I'd rather spend the effort in journalism. You know, write about what matters.”

Jonathan smiled hugely at her. “That's cool. I can totally see you writing famous exposes. Traveling all over the world.”

She met his eye and their gazes stuck. Both of them wanted to look away but couldn't--then they both did, straight ahead with renewed focus. They had a story to expose here in Hawkins, and they had photographic evidence to support it.

 


	8. Not How It Was Meant To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> How awesome does Season 2 look? I can't even.
> 
> Sorry for the late update. (Please be patient with us. We've sort of got a bunch on our plate in RL right now) 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

**Chapter 8: Not How It Was Meant To Be**

When Barb and Jonathan got back to the Byers house, dark had fallen over Hawkins and a sleek black car took up a lot of space next to the pinto. At the sight of it, Jonathan swore under his breath. Barb frowned, uneasy. “Who is that?”

Slumping back in his seat, Jonathan sighed and said grimly, “My dad.”

Barb gave a start and re-examined the muscle car. She had been under the impression Mr. Byers was out of the picture for good.

Jonathan didn't move. Barb sensed him withdrawing. Tearing his dark eyes from the car, he looked at her apologetically. “This won't be pretty.”

On the way to the door, a ragged hole chopped in the wall caught their eye, and he rushed inside. “Mom? What happened?”

Barb closed the door with her foot and juggled the bowls of her mother’s food as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder nervously. The living room was greatly altered by the whispering blue tarp covering the hole, the freezing temperature, and the intimidating man on the couch next to Joyce. She was curled under a blanket, glassy eyed and tiny with a half empty bottle of liquor and two glasses. It was like Jonathan had accidentally taken her to the wrong house.

The man rose to his feet as Joyce said, “Jonathan your father is going to stay here--on the couch. Barb, this is, uh, this is Jonathan's father, Lonnie.”

“Hi,” she said awkwardly when the formidable man seized her up with disapproval plain on his face. He was taller than Jonathan, with the same strong jaw. He wasn't dressed like a dad--and coupled with the car outside Barb sensed a lady’s man of the same ilk as Tommy H. She tried to be polite. “My mom sent over spaghetti for everyone.”

Joyce smiled kindly at her, a shadow of her old shadow. Could a woman disappear into herself twice? “Thank you, honey.”

“Yes. That was very thoughtful,” Lonnie said stiffly. “Maybe you should go on home now. It’s late and I need to talk to my son.”

Barb took a step back, reeling to have her invitation jerked out from under her like a rug. Jonathan stepped forward, voice rough, but his eyes locked on his mother. “Mom, did that thing come back?”

“Jesus, Jonathan, you can't feed into her delusions--”

Fists closing, voice hardening, Jonathan looked at his father. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Lonnie narrowed his eyes at Jonathan and the two stepped down the hall into his room. Barb made herself busy putting up the spaghetti. The dog was locked up on the enclosed back porch with his bowl and blanket. He whined when he saw her and she made kissy noises but didn't let him back into the kitchen, sensing that Lonnie had banished him out there.

“Have you eaten, Joyce?” she asked. The woman shook her head. “No. I--I'm not really hungry. You kids eat all you want.”

“Have a bread stick at least,” Barb carried the garlic bread over and put it in Joyce’s hand, taking the booze and the glasses away.

Voices raised slightly in Jonathan’s room. Barb and Joyce traded a look but said nothing. A moment later, Lonnie returned. “Thanks, Beth--”

“ _Barb_ ,” she corrected, with Jonathan.

Lonnie rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Now isn't the time to have girls over. Your brother just died for Christ’s sake.”

“For your information, I’m here to help find him.”

“Well, the police already did that. So time to go home.”

Barb scoffed. “You don't know anything.”

“Excuse me?”

Barb opened her mouth to defend her statement but Joyce flapped her hands. “She’s a kid, Lonnie. Don't get so worked up.”

Jonathan traded a significant look with his mother, gulped and then met Barb’s eye. He jerked his head toward the front door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Barb saw Joyce relax a little, big brown eyes entreating them to run and save themselves. Jonathan led the way out of the house.

Just before stepping onto the porch, Barb heard Lonnie drag the liquor bottle off the kitchen table.

In the car, Jonathan slammed the driver side door. “God, I hate that _prick_.”

Barb settled in the passenger’s seat and wrestled with the old seat belt. She felt rejected but simultaneously saved by a saint. Was Lonnie really so bad Joyce didn't even want kids in the house? Did Jonathan really grow up with that kind of atmosphere? No wonder he preferred to be alone.

They sat in his quiet car. He didn't start the engine just yet. She sensed it was because he was reluctant to actually leave. His eyes were locked on the windows of the house, as if he was waiting on something.

“Will your mom be okay?” Barb asked. The guilt of leaving Joyce in that man’s clutches made her stomach hurt. Jonathan fisted the steering wheel.

“She can handle him better when she doesn't have to worry about us.”

Barb felt cold. “Okay. I'm sorry if I made things worse talking back like that.”

“What? No, Barb. I loved that you did that.” Jonathan actually smiled, dark eyes flitting fervently at her only once. “That's how Mom usually handles him. But this stuff with Will has made her act so different….”

“I get it. It's like a nightmare. It sucks.”

“It does suck.” He leaned back with a deep breath. The quiet cold November night outside the car crept in. His knee brushed his keys hanging from the ignition but he still didn't touch it.  “Where do you want to go?” he asked at length.

Barb blinked in surprise and spoke before she could think better. “I thought you were taking me home?”

His eyes went wide and he looked away, chin tucked in as his tense drew shoulders up. “I will if you want. I'm not going back in there until he’s had a chance to pass out and I thought --but if you would rather go home--”

“No.” Barb touched her glasses, looked anywhere but at Jonathan, feeling nervous energy course through her. “I don't like the idea of you driving around alone tonight.”

There was a beat. One excruciating moment of silence in which Barb had time to contemplate how weird it was that she was unwilling to ever leave Jonathan alone.

Directly behind that she didn't miss the fact that she was alone in a car with a boy at night and that boy wanted her to stay in the car with him. What was she doing? She didn't feel unsafe but she didn't feel secure either.

 _Don't do anything stupid_ , she told herself. All of this flashed white hot through her mind in the space of one or two heartbeats.

Then, Jonathan’s soft voice said, “Thanks.”

He was her friend. He just planned his brother's funeral and got in a fight with his dad as his mother withdrew further and further away. If he wanted to sit in a car with her--she understood somehow that it was only to keep the loneliness away. Not to try anything untoward.

All at once, her stomach rumbled and she thought of the spaghetti they had left on the counter. “We should eat something.”

: : :

It felt real, between him and Barb. She wasn't just being nice; she was his friend. Jonathan had a friend. He didn't want to let her go and the fact that she had yet to go when he gave her an out made him feel bashful and unsure. Now what?

Eat. Of course. Barb kept things so simple like that. Jonathan breathed easier knowing his assumption that she would stay with him hadn’t ruined anything. But he vowed to be more careful in the future. Next time she might decide he was too clingy and ditch him.

The idea of losing her company and having to face life without Will too made his chest go tight. No. Won't think of that. Food. Barb wanted food. He felt his own hunger--a distant kind of feeling shelved behind frustration, grief, and anger, but there nonetheless.

“Your mom’s spaghetti is already in the house isn't it?”

“Yeah, “ she winched. He felt equal parts horror and shame to think that she was afraid to go into his house with Lonnie in it. That son of a bitch.

“Stay here,” he said and left the car. Tension crawled up his spine. His hands went into fists. The last thing he wanted to do was speak to his father again, or to see his mother with that drunken haze in her eye. He took just one step toward the house before Barb left the car and fell into step with him.

“Lemme help carry stuff.”

“Thanks.” He knew she wasn't talking about carrying anything physical. Side by side they re-entered the house.

The smoke of two brands of cigarettes wafted around Jonathan's head and made Barb cough as they stepped into the living room.

Slumped on the couch, Lonnie snorted. “Thought your little girlfriend was too good to be around the likes of me.”

Jonathan grit his teeth and ignored the man on the couch. From where he’d been locked on the covered back porch, Jarr barked and whined begging for freedom. Joyce was up and in the kitchen. Jonathan went straight to her with Barb following on his heels. His mom was making a plate of spaghetti from the Tupperware bowls.

“Hey,” she greeted when she saw them come in but it was in her eyes and the set of her chin that she didn't approve of their return.

“Are you going to be okay?” Jonathan asked her lowly.

“Yes,” she said at the same soft volume. They used to always whisper when Lonnie was home and drunk. It felt too much like the past the way he recognized a woman doing her best to make a bad situation okay. She looked at Barb but jerked her head towards Lonnie. “Let me deal with him. You kids save yourselves.”

“You could come with us,” Barb said with a smile, like it would be fun.

As surprised by the invite as Jonathan, Joyce looked for a moment alive and well. She blinked. “Where are you going?”

When Barb deferred to Jonathan, he shrugged.

“I don't know. Around.”

Joyce smiled tightly with appreciation and cupped his face. “I love you. But I have to stay here. In case that--well. It's best if I stay.”

Jonathan nodded. Before he could say anything to her to reassure her that he believed in the monster, Jarr’s insistent whining broke into an all out howl for attention.

“Shut up you stupid mutt!” Lonnie shouted.

“Jarr!” Joyce scolded toward the dog much more sweetly. “It's okay, you be a good boy.”

“Jarr?” Lonnie asked from the couch and laughed. “That's a dumb ass thing to name a dog, Joyce, Jesus.”

“Will named him!” Jonathan snapped, his anger lashing out like a white hot whip. Barb’s hand closed on his.

“You kids go,” Joyce said and she even made shooing motions. “Here. Take the food. Unless--where are you going again?”

“Around,” Jonathan repeated. He had absolutely no idea where they would go.

She kissed Jonathan’s cheek and then caught Barb and did the same to her. The girl stayed the woman by a hand on her elbow. “Promise you’ll eat something?”

Joyce nodded and pulled away.

Supplied now with food, Jonathan and Barb headed out the door.

Lonnie pulled his huff from his lips and let out smoke as he asked, “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Jonathan grit back.

“I know that. I asked _where_.”

“Leave him alone, Lonnie.”

“His brother is dead and he'd rather run around at night with some girl! You just let them run wild don't you?”

Jonathan turned to say something--he didn't even know what but that whip of anger was back and the way Lonnie seemed to blame Will’s death on Joyce’s parenting was too far--but Barb still had his hand and she pulled him through the door and shut it behind them.

Out on the porch, in the cold, Jonathan snatched his hand from Barb’s. He felt a little betrayed by her for not letting him shout at and hit his father. Who was she to mediate him?

Barb huffed, “Don't let that asshole get to you.”

Hearing the goody two shoes girl say the word asshole and mean it broke Jonathan's anger.

“What did you call me?” Lonnie’s voice rose threateningly from the other side of the tarp. The hole in the wall had allowed him to hear her.

“I'm sorry, do you need me to say it louder?” Barb snapped at the hole.

“Let’s go,” Jonathan took her hand and pulled her to the car. They climbed in and he started the engine as the front door opened and Lonnie stuck his head out.

Barb gave a peep of fright and slumped down in her seat as if hiding from bullets. Jonathan backed the car up into the grass and pulled away from the house.

“Sorry,” Barb said.

“Don't be.”

She sat up. Color tinged her cheeks and she was breathing heavily with the adrenaline rush of the near confrontation. Jonathan stole more than one glance her way as he drove. She was beautiful. He wanted to take pictures.

“Can I show you something?” he asked and even as he spoke he pulled the car over before they had even left the long lane of his driveway.

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

“Bring the food. Come on.” He left the car. She did too. But when he headed for the woods, she paused.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“It's not far. Come on.” he extended his hand and she steeled her spine and took it. They walked together into the woods.

“Are we hoping the monster is drawn by the smell of meatballs?”

He chuckled. “No. It's about Will.”

“Oh.”

: : :

Barb held onto Jonathan Byers’ hand and tried not to let her paranoia that every little sound was the Thing coming after them. To his credit, Jonathan had told the truth. He took her to a place just inside the woods. A little hut made of stones and sticks. A proud flag proclaimed it to be castle Byers.

“This is seriously cool,” Barb said as they crawled inside. Shelves of toys. Drawings. Soft things to sit on. The young girl in Barb who had played in woods growing up was instantly jealous of the Byers boys for having such a legit clubhouse.

When she finally looked at Jonathan, her smile fell. He was crying quietly. With a sniff, he started talking about when he had helped Will and his friends build this place. How he had went here all the time to get away from bullies or chores.

“He had a place where he felt safe. Everyone should have one of those.”

“Do you?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah. My room has a little closet under the attic stairs. I used to do tea parties and stuff in there when I was little. When I first started public school, I would come home and sit in there with a favorite book. Just made me feel better. Did you share this place with Will?”

“No. I just went into music. Or photography. You know…” he sniffed, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “I shared that stuff with him, though. Mixed tapes. Cool pictures. He loved it all. I’m--I’m going to miss him--so--much--” he broke down.

Barb didn't know what else to do but put a hand on his back and stroke until his tears subsided.

“Sorry,” Jonathan said.

“No. It's okay, Jon.”

“No. I mean about my dad. I'm sorry we have to hide out here.”

“He's a piece of work,” Barb agreed. “I know the type. My big sister married a total dick just like him. At least your mom got a divorce.”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “They’ve been divorced since I was ten. He forgets birthdays, makes plans but then doesn't show up. He’s always got a different girlfriend when I see him. I'm surprised he didn't bring one with him.”

“Sounds awful.”

“He doesn't want kids. Never did. He comes around only when he can get something out of it.”

Barb felt a whip of anger strike through her. “You deserve better than that,” she said. _All kids do._

Jonathan plucked up a He-man action figure and fiddled with it.

“I almost had better,” he admitted gruffly. He glanced over at her. “When I was born they had to do a paternity test. I was either Lonnie’s or Hopper’s. No one got the answer they wanted.”

Barb let her jaw drop, showing her true surprise. “Chief Hopper? Really?”

He nodded.

She cast her mind over the burly cop and nodded. “I _thought_ he was being super dad-like at the morgue.”

Jon grinned, jumping his shoulders. “It's not like he’s a daily part of our lives or anything but whenever he runs into us in town and stuff, I don't know... he’s pretty cool.”

His brown eyes raked over the toys and colorful pictures. He shook his head. “Actually, I can't s-stay here. Let's go.”

“Okay.” Barb understood completely. She patted his back. “Where?”

“There's a midnight showing at the movies.”

“That sounds fun. Think we can sneak in the spaghetti?”

He grinned. “Totally.”


	9. From The Outside Looking In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few comments we’ve gotten on this fic while we were taking a break from it have been just the push we needed to work on this even after long days of RL responsibilities.
> 
> Comments are super duper encouraging and motivating is all I'm saying <3

**Chapter 9: From The Outside Looking In**

Out on the town with her new boyfriend, Nancy Wheeler tried to smile and laugh so that Steve wouldn't think she didn't want to be out with him. But it was difficult not to fall into quiet, pensive moods from time to time. Whenever something reminded her of Barb.

Oh, _Barb_ . Nancy didn't know what to do. It seemed like her careful friend was losing her mind or something. It had been bewildering when Nancy hadn't managed to get through to the girl even after the whole picture thing. The evidence was _right there_ , and Barb just looked right past it, got in the guy's car... and left before the school day was even over.

Even more troubling, Nancy had tried calling last night only to be told my Mrs. Holland that Barb had been staying at the Byers house the last couple of days to “help the family in their time of need.” Which, honestly didn't sound like Barb even though Barb was a good person. She just wasn't the type to socialize so intimately with strangers. She had a comfort zone, and Nancy knew how hard it was for her to leave it.

What worried Nancy the most was that Barb hadn't been home since the night of the party. She was apparently telling her mother that it was for charitable reasons, but Nancy couldn't be so sure.

For three days now, Barb had been with Jonathan Byers, day _and night_. And the timing just seemed weird to Nancy.

Who even was Barb Holland anymore?

After the last couple of days that Nancy had had, she wasn't really in the mood to do anything but get her friend back, and she didn't want to sit at home and worry about Barb not taking her calls either. So when Steve invited her out to the movies, she accepted.

Standing in line at the concession stand, she let Steve hook an arm around her shoulders. “What kinda candy you want, Nancy pants?”

She laughed at his silly nickname and shoved him, affectionately. “Don't call me that.”

“No? I think it's cute,” he stroked her hair from her face, lips curling in that little smile he had taken to giving her lately. “And cute suits you. You don't like it?”

“What if I called you Steve sleeve?”

He smirked. “God, you're adorable.” He tilted her head back and kissed her. She went onto her toes and couldn't help but giggle into the kiss. She loved when he called her adorable and kissed her.

They had to stop when it was their turn to place their orders. Nancy let Steve pick everything since he was paying. She leaned into him under his arm, smiling because she was happy to be his girlfriend.

The theater nearest them let out and in the wave of faces was none other than Barb Holland, walking right beside Jonathan Byers. Nancy’s jaw dropped and she slipped away from Steve and fell into the forward motion of the satisfied moviegoers.

Outside in the frigid night air, she caught up to Barb who seemed to be waiting by the pizza place next door.

“Barb!”

The redhead turned and her expression _fell_ when she saw Nancy. “Oh. Hey, Nance. Guess you're here with Steve.”

Hurt, Nancy huffed. “Yeah. Are you here with Jonathan?”

“Not really your business if I am.”

“Yes it is! We’re friends, still… aren't we?”

Barb sighed. “Yes. But… I'm friends with Jonathan, too. And if you're going to let Steve and those other tools treat him like that then, I don't know how much longer I can call you a friend.”

“They were only acting like that because of that picture.”

“Oh my God, I knew you would bring that up. Can't you just let it go?”"

“No!” Nancy scoffed, baffled. “Barb! Why are you suddenly _friends_ with a guy that would take a picture like that?”

“Don't put air quotes around friends, Nancy. He is legitimately my friend.”

“Yeah a friend that was a stranger four days ago but who you LIVE WITH NOW?”

“What?”

“I spoke to your mom. You haven't slept at your house even once since the party. She said you've been at the Byers’ house? Barb!”

Barb advanced and put her face in Nancy's. “You don't know _anything_ , Nancy. So just stay out of my business.”

“Nancy!” Steve called and a moment later he arrived at Nancy’s side. His hand went to stroke her spine. “I was looking everywhere for you! Hey, Barb, how's it going?”

“Fine,” Barb said coolly.

“We good? I hope you won't hold it against me--how things went down before.”

Barb’s icy demeanor thawed and she sighed. “Yeah. Whatever. We're cool.”

“Great! So we're about to catch this movie--wanna see it with us? My treat.”

“No thanks. I have plans.”

“With Jonathan,” Nancy said. She couldn't help but use an accusatory tone.

Steve grimaced. “Really?

Barb scoffed. “Hey, if I let it go that you knocked me down then you have to let the picture go. He didn't mean anything by it.”

“I'm sure he has all kinds of reasonable explanations,” Steve scathed.

Barb’s eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth as if to start yelling but then,

“Barb come on,” Jonathan Byers said as he came out of the pizza place. He wore a leather jacket and had a white envelope in one hand. The minute he was outside, he struck a lighter and lit the cigarette in his lips.

He walked right past Nancy and Steve without sparing them a glance, toward the car parked there. He opened the car door and crammed the white envelope in his front jeans pocket, drew on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke. As he waited, his dark eyes studied Steve quietly but bounced away when Steve noticed.

“Where are you going?” Nancy asked, worried by all of it.

“Don't worry about it, Nancy,” Barb said. And she left Nancy on the sidewalk, climbing in the passenger side of the strange boy’s car.

“Wait!”

They didn't. Jonathan started his car and pulled away from the curb.

“That guy is _shady_ ,” Steve said.

“Yeah I think so too,” Nancy felt like crying. And what was in that envelope? Drugs? Money to buy drugs?

“Steve, can we follow them?”

“Absolutely, Nancy pants. Let's go.”

: : :

Barb massaged her temples in the passenger seat. “Nancy must think I'm crazy,” she murmured.

“She’ll get the whole story with everyone else. Soon as we prove that monsters are real.”

“Freddie gave you the advance?” Barb asked.

Jonathan had ducked into his place of work to get some cash. They'd been talking about the gear they would need to hunt and kill the monster. Gear cost money.

“Yeah, he’s always been willing to help me out. Getting me extra shifts and stuff.”

“Good.”

“The surplus store doesn't open until 9….” Jonathan pained. His thumbs drummed the wheel. “I don't know of any 24 hour places nearby.”

“Me either. So what’s next? Home?”

He took the turn. But his thumbs kept drumming and his face grew darker. Barb could sense that talking right now would only worsen his mood. Same for her, actually. This mess with Nancy was getting worse and worse.

The turn off for the Byers house came up. He glanced a time or two at Barb. She thought of Lonnie and dreaded walking back in there. Jonathan slowed down but not as much as he would need to to actually make the turn.

“I want to go to the quarry.” He announced. Another furtive glance and a loud swallow. “I’ve got to see where he…”

Barb was already nodding. “Okay. Yeah. Closure. That’ll be good.”

He stubbed out his smoke in the car ash tray and stepped on the gas with a look of relief on his face. Happy to avoid his dad? Happy to be understood? Barb reached to pat his knee, remembered he didn't like to be touched, and hesitated.

His hand lowered from the wheel and took hers before she could fully retreat.

She gave his fingers a squeeze. Seeing the place where Will fell wasn't going to be easy for either of them, but together they could face it.

The road became bumpy, and he slowly maneuvered to a safe parking spot along the tree line. They got out together. The wind felt even colder here, coming off the water. The stars were out, with a quarter moon. A large owl hooted from the opposite side.

Was the monster hunting tonight?

“Careful.” Jonathan said, taking her hand again as soon as she rounded the car. His eyes scanned the treeline too, and his energy told her this would be a quick stop.

By the light of the headlights, they stepped safely near the edge.

Police tape was still up, blocking them from going to the exact spot. From what Barb could make out, the cliff didn't look freshly crumbled at all but what did she know about rocks?

Jonathan's back and shoulders tensed. He released her hand and whirled. Barb nearly swallowed her tongue. Was it the monster--?

She looked around and saw Steve’s car creeping in without its headlights on. He parked behind Jonathan and the couple got out.

“Barb! What are you doing here?”

“What do you _think_?” she hissed.

Suddenly, Barb was certain that large groups drew the monster. That was why it had stalked the party. What if it came back now? She could not protect all her friends at once. Especially when one of them needed protection from the other two.

She marched toward Nancy and Steve in hopes of keeping them from getting any closer to Jonathan in his darkest hour.

“His little brother died here. He needs to see it. What are _you_ doing here?”

Steve looked aptly apologetic, and Nancy’s chin moved forward in the way it did when she wasn't quite ready to admit she was wrong. “What was in that envelope?”

“His paycheck, Nosey!”

“It just seems a little suspicious to be out here in the middle of the night.”

“Well, Will's funeral is in the morning. We're kind of booked.”

“Don't get mad. I was worried about you!”

“I get that. And I appreciate your concern, Nance. But I know what I'm doing. This guy is in pain. He is _alone_. He needs someone and now that you have Steve, I get what that’s like.”

Nancy’s jaw dropped. “Barb, you're not alone!”

“Felt pretty alone at the pool. If not for Jonathan--” she choked. Should she really mention the monster right now?

Nancy sighed and looked past Barb at Jonathan’s silhouette. Steve had been eyeing him in silence and finally spoke. “You’re being a good person, Barb  But he’s a mess. You can't trust him. What if he tried something all the way out here? What would you have done then?”

Barb scoffed at the senior. “I don't like what you're implying. You think Jon is going to _murder_ me?”

Steve’s face didn't move a muscle. “Sickos like him return to the scene of the crime to get off.”

Barb gasped. Of all the cruel things to say about a person--she couldn't even think straight for the flash of rage that engulfed her. “How can you--that’s so--based on _what?_ Why do you hate him so much?”

“The picture, Barb.” Nancy said.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “The pictures he took from the bushes proves he's a perv.”

“So you jump straight to murderer?” Jonathan asked.

Barb shut her eyes. Crap. Their voices had carried. He joined them behind his car. Barb fell back to stand at his elbow so no mistake could be made about whose side she was on here.

Steve practically snarled at Jonathan. “Not a far step to take for someone like you. Probably shoved him off the cliff to keep him quiet.”

Jonathan swung at Steve, who dunked and gave him a right hook to the gut. Barb yelped and covered her mouth. “Are you--oh--”

Jonathan tackled Steve. They wrestled for a second, and then Jonathan pinned him and started throwing punch after punch.

Nancy and Barb both screamed for them to stop, to no avail.

“KNOCK IT OFF!” A bear of a voice boomed.

From the darkness, a small flashlight bounced over the ground, followed by the burly sheriff. The man pulled Jonathan up and held the boys apart. He wasn't in uniform and didn't look great. His eyes sagged like an old bull dog. He reeked of cigarettes and looked pissed.

“What in damnation are you doing out here? It's dangerous!”

“I had to see.” Jonathan sobbed. He was close to bawling. Hopper released the handful of clothes he gripped and thumped his back.

“What's the fight about, then, huh?”

“Steve thinks Jon killed Will!” Barb said. Maybe it was tattling. She didn't care. She needed someone like Chief Hopper to hear it and defend Jonathan with her.

As she had hoped, the man’s face turned to stone. He looked at Steve. “That right?”

“He just tried to kill me!”

“Maybe ya had it comin’,” Hopper barked. He lifted the flashlight beam. “Harrington right?”

Steve grimaced and nodded. Hopper nodded too. “That's what I thought. You all clear out before I take you in for trespassing.”

“What?” Nancy squeaked. Barb raked her top lip with her teeth. Yikes. Would that be going on their permanent record?

“Don't argue. Just get in the car!” Hopper ordered firmly. He sounded like a dad on an overlong road trip. Nancy and Steve practically ran back to their car. Steve kept his shoulder hunched, face in hand.

Hopper followed her and Jonathan, and shut the driver side door for him when he climbed in. The sheriff leaned in the open car window.

“I know it ain't easy,” he said lowly to Jonathan, who didn't make a sound. His dark broody eyes stared out the windshield.

Hopper looked past him to see Barb, then straightened back up. “Hey. You want to talk or anything give me a call, alright?”

“...Coming to the funeral tomorrow?” Jonathan asked thickly.

Barb couldn't see Hopper’s face, but noticed the shift in his stance and the change in his voice. “I want to be there for you and your mom but…”

Jonathan looked down. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“I’ll try to make it.”

“Good night.” Jonathan started the car. Hopper stepped clear of the tires. As Jonathan reversed down the long, bumpy lane, Barb had plenty of time to study the sheriff’s retreating form.

“What was he doing out here?”

“Doesn't want another kid to slip and fall, I guess.”

Barb hummed, unconvinced.

“His daughter died when she was Will’s age.”

Barb gasped and covered her mouth. “I didn't know!”

Jonathan shook his head. “If anybody knows what my mom is going through right now, it's him.”

“So it's...It must be hard for him then.”

Jonathan nodded. “He’s doing what he can.”

 

Lonnie's car was still in the yard. Jonathan knew it would be but was still disappointed to see it. He could tell by the tight line of Barb's mouth that she wasn't happy either. He was glad she, an outsider, immediately didn't like Lonnie. It proved that it wasn't just his mom’s “influence” that made Jonathan hate the man, as Lonnie had implied. It was just the man himself.

The blue wall tarp flapped feebly in the cold night air. No sounds from inside the house. They made their way inside carefully. Lonnie was passed out fully clothed on the couch with the liquor bottle still open on the coffee table.

JRR whined from out on the porch. Barb took it upon herself to go and free the dog from his confinement. But she held him by the collar and led him into Jonathan’s room. Jonathan liked that she didn't need to be warned not to let the dog jump on and wake up Lonnie.

First he stuck his head into his mom's room. Found her asleep. Then he hesitated in the hall, looking at Will’s room. He used to work late shifts and it was his routine to check in on mom, then Will.

His heart hurt so badly his eyes welled up.

He stepped into his bedroom with his head down, blinking back the tears.

Shedding his leather jacket, Jonathan winced when his knuckles stung. They were swollen, bruised, split and bleeding. As JRR jumped happily up onto the sleeping bag on the bed, Barb shut the bedroom door and winced at the sight of his knuckles. “Here, lemme see…”

Jonathan let her have the hand and held his breath as her soft fingers poked tenderly at the damage. “I can't believe you hit him this hard.”

Heat flashed across his face and he looked down again. “You heard what he said!”

“Hey, I didn't say he didn't deserve it,” she shot back. Her smiling eyes eased his flare of white hot defense. “I'm just saying, to make your hand look like this. Must be one hell of a right hook.”

“Ha,” Jonathan felt himself blush. “Well, Lonnie gave me a lesson or two before he left. He would get in these moods where he's mister perfect dad. It never lasted long.”

As he spoke Barb pulled a first aid kit from the bag she had packed at her house. They sat on the edge of the bed, and she wiped away the blood, sprayed on antiseptic and taped up the split knuckles.

“You're good at that,” Jonathan said. He flexed the hand tentatively. It throbbed but the tape stayed secure over the cuts.

“One of my big brothers was a bare knuckle boxer for a little bit with his buddies. I also know how to reset a broken nose.” Her lips tilted and her eyes sparkled. “Luckily I don't have to call on that skill now.”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “I’m--I’m sorry I lost my cool like that. I hate fighting. Violence isn't the answer to a problem I just--”

Her hand dropped on his uninjured one. “I get it. And hey, I don't advocate violence either but… you were pretty impressive back there.”

He guffawed.

A quiet moment passed. Their warm hands pressed into one another. For Jonathan is was one inexplicably separate moment in time. Separate from all the other shit, the heartbreak and confusion and rage… it was just… peaceful.

But then Barb got a kind of panicked look on her face, let his hand go and moved away from him. She left the bed entirely. He knew instantly from her awkward shuffle around the room that she wanted to leave but didn't know where to go.

Jonathan got that feeling he got sometimes at school or at work. The _Not Again_ feeling. Oftentimes others his age started acting weird about stuff because of sex. He understood but at the same time… He didn't. It was like he knew the problems of his peers the same way Jane Goodall knew apes. Pure observation from within.

The very first thing to rocket through his mind was to assure her he'd had no intentions on her. Because he truly didn't. It maybe didn't look that way, holding her hand in his bed in the middle of the night… but he didn't work that way.

As usual, one of his peers had just taken a huge leap from a place Jonathan was to a place he had yet to go. Left him behind. Again.

So he launched himself from the bed and went to the corner of the room where his own sleeping bag was laid out. The really sad part was he couldn’t tell her he didn't want her. It would hurt her feelings, whether she believed him or not. Because all she would hear was that she was undesirable.

And that just wasn't true.

From the corner of his eye, he admired her presence in the corner of his room. If she was a photograph, he would frame it just for the set of her shoulders and the slouch in her spine, the way she held her own elbows; this spoke to Jonathan on a profound level. Add to that the general appeal of her red curls against the bland color of his wallpaper, his desk light bathing her freckles in warm light, the way her eyebrows arched effortlessly above the rim of the large glasses sitting on the very tip of her button nose.

She was a hidden masterpiece.

His lips parted but at the last second he lost his nerve to say it. She had seen his decision to speak, though, so he had to think fast. “You’re… uh. Y-you're my best friend…. Is that okay?”

Her eyelashes fluttered in complete shock and she shortened her chin and grinned. “Yyyyyeah. That's more than okay. I’m happy to be your best friend!” The worried set of her shoulders loosened. “You're a good guy, Jon. I don't know why nobody else can see it. They're just morons, I guess.”

He snorted and messaged his hurt hand. “Some more than others.”

She sighed and crawled into the bed. JRR instantly spooned up under her arm. She gave him a hearty scratch and kiss to his wet nose.

Jonathan hit the light and settled in his sleeping bag. The confirmation of her friendship left him feeling so good that the reality of tomorrow almost didn't even settle on him in time.

His eyelids were already lead and he was falling into the sea of dreamland before the first fin cut through the water. In the morning he was burying Will.

A funeral. A goodbye. He wasn't ready--and _mom_ ! He needed to take care of her. She needed him and he couldn't get up. He couldn't make his own body move. She was just down the hall, hurting, and he was here but he wasn't and _he had to get up and be there for Mom._

“Wake up, Jon--it's okay. Just wake up. It's a bad dream.”

He tore out of the dark nightmare as if birthing himself through a membrane into a bright place full of fire and stars. He blinked. No, it was just sunlight and Barb’s fiery hair and freckles.

She crouched over him, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other stroking her knuckles along his cheek. She looked worried but her eyebrows promised she had a plan to fix this. “You were dreaming. It's over now.”

Maybe the part where he was paralyzed in his sleeping bag wasn't real but everything else was. He had to go to his little brother’s funeral today. It was sick. He shook his head. “It's just starting.”

Her heart broke over her face. “You're not alone, though. I'm right there with you and your mom. And so is Hopper. And so many others.”

His eyes stung and he rubbed them, finding an alarming amount of crust around his eyes. Must have been crying all night. His lip wobbled. She rubbed his arm. “I know it's hard, man. But we have to believe it will be okay….eventually. Just hang on, okay?”

She extended her hand. The universal offer of assistance. He thought of last night and how her friendship had actually made him feel good for a minute or two, despite it all.

This wasn't going to be easy, but with her here, it could be done. He grasped her hand and she helped him stand.


	10. The Funeral

**Chapter Ten: The Funeral**

 

Barb helped Jonathan tie his tie.

Their hands moved shyly in the same space, careful not to touch. The healing cut to her thumb made her usually nimble fingers clumsy. They each blew air from their noses in shy laughter.

Last night had been a close call on many levels. The fight at the quarry and almost getting arrested. That weird moment on the bed and almost falling for the very trap her dad warned her about. Then the night terrors and the helplessness it made her feel.

More than once a cry of anguish had busted out of the sleeping boy. Raw human pain. It had made Barb cry because she just hadn't know what to do to help. It felt wrong to do nothing but waking him didn't seem wise. Already the circles under his eyes were too dark. He needed sleep first and foremost…

She just wasn't sure that counted.

In the end, she had sung her favorite song in hope that it would soothe him, but she just sang herself to sleep, and then woke early to find him twitching and writhing some more. Literally trapped in a bad dream. So she woke him up and did her best to offer comforting words from the heart.

Now things felt…. solid between them.

That moment last night could have been a disaster, but miraculously they tumbled through it to the other side with this stringent understanding between them that….was hard to explain. Maybe it was the timing. Maybe if they hadn't just planned a funeral for an eleven year old little brother, maybe if there wasn't a monster on the loose eating people, then the regular Girl/Boy Kiss Scene would have happened.

A small part of Barb kind of wanted it to. But a bigger part had other priorities, and it felt good to have those priorities respected. Seriously who even was this guy?

Could Nancy say definitively that Steve Harrington wouldn't have made a move in the exact same situation? Probably not. Just before the life changing monster attack, Barb had taken away one thing from her experience at that party and it was this: Steve Harrington would do or say anything to get a girl’s attention. Using the loss of a family member would come so naturally to him he wouldn't even know he was doing it.

Hell, Barb’s dad had just warned her about it and yet she _still_ almost let it happen. She wasn't proud, but if she was honest, the only reason it didn't was because Jonathan had changed the subject.

Instead of pushing at her boundaries, like Steve did Nancy when she resisted his charm, Jonathan had increased the distance Barb had put between them and then turned off the heat. He flipped a switch and he started talking about friendship instead.

Was it a move? Because if it was a move, like, who taught him that? Maybe it was the chief because it certainly wasn't Lonnie.

Lonnie.

She completely forgot about that douche bag.

“Ready?” she asked, brushing at the shoulders of his suit. She wasn't about to walk out of this room alone. That man just pushed her buttons the wrong way and she wouldn't really be doing her job here if she let another fight break out, never mind _starting_ one.

With his dark eyes made even darker by the force of the determination which he coated over his grief, Jonathan sighed at his own reflection and stalked out of the room. He didn't so much as a glance at her even in the glass. Barb didn't take it personally. She knew from his energy that his mind had turned to his mother all at once and with the force of a typhoon.

In Will’s room, Joyce sat quietly in a state of surprising grace. Like a melancholy portrait of a lady in black.

Her hair was neatly combed, her knobby knees together, shiny heels crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were unfocused and her thin lips fluttered with either breath or unspoken words.

“Mom?”

She stirred from her thoughts and came to Jonathan for a tight hug. He hugged her back, and Barb melted to the fringes to give the family privacy. She spied the time from the corner of her eye.

Homeroom was just ending. Her second day skipping class. And before that she was tardy and ditched early. And before that she had been at a party on a weeknight. For a few seconds the surreal facts of her life thrummed around her. She didn't care about school.

Never expected this. But some things mattered more than a test.

She peeked in at the mother and son still hugging in Will’s bedroom.

“Did you even go home?” Lonnie said, appearing out of the bathroom in a dense cloud of aftershave. Barb choked. _Easy, guy, it's your kid’s funeral not a night club_.

“No.”

He narrowed his eyes. “A girl your age doesn't want to deal with this mess. Jonny’s a smart guy, he gets that. Hell, if he could walk away he would. We all would. What I'm saying is, nobody will blame you for moving on.”

His sincerity punctured Barb’s ire. He was maybe a little too blunt, a little crass, but he spoke a truth. She _could_ leave this tragedy with the Byers, send her condolences and prayers, and then focus on her own life. Everybody else was doing it.

But then, that was exactly why she had no interest in doing it. Plus, they had a monster to expose.

“Thank you, Mr. Byers, but friends don't turn their backs on friends when they are needed the most.”

The man looked like he might object, so she made her point clearer. “Look, would we rather just be dumb kids whose only care in the world is prom? Of course. But there comes a time in every kid's life when the grown up card is dealt. Maybe it’s an unplanned baby.” She looked at the picture of a young Joyce posing with newborn Jonathan. “But it can be an unplanned death too. And it's not fun and it sucks really a lot but life isn't fair for anyone. It's how we deal with it that counts. I've seen what happens when people decide to run… eventually, it catches up to you. Better for me and for my best friend to deal with it right now. So we might as well deal together, you know?”

Lonnie stared at her long and hard. She could actually feel the scales falling off his eyes. Whatever he had thought of her last night was altered now. If she wasn't mistaken, that was a glimmer of respect in his eyes. It made her feel really weird. Mostly because she didn't particularly care what he thought of her.

“You're a mature young woman. I can see why my son likes you.”

Her spine trembled and she felt even weirder. “Um. Okay. Thanks.”

Lonnie smiled at her. Cleaned up, sober and smiling, he was actually handsome. And he knew it. Barb smiled tightly back getting the urge to flee from his suddenly approving gaze.

Jonathan appeared at her side, hand resting between her shoulder blades. “Maybe you should drive.”

Feeling saved from she didn't even know what, Barb smiled at him and nodded. “Yes, I will. Whatever you need.”

One shallow dimple, and then he cut his eyes to his dad and grew cold. “See you there.”

Lonnie stepped back, showing his palms like a man caught trying to shoplift. Barb lost her breath. Oh my God, she thought. Her stomach bottomed out. That was what it was--Lonnie had been _hitting_ _on her_.

A hard case of the creeps actually made her feel like crying and it was a different flavor of tears than what she had been shedding for Will. She swallowed repeatedly until the feeling passed. Ew. That was what it was. Just plain _ew._

“You okay?” Jonathan asked the minute they were in the car alone. She started the engine and listened to the initial whine of the belt.

“Hm? Yeah. Just. I was trying to be nice to him and it was super weird.”

Jonathan smirked. “I heard the thing you said about people who run away…. I think you gutted him with that one. It was great.”

Barb laughed. “Really?”

His lips squirmed with a wicked grin. “Oh yeah. It was perfect! God, I've been wanting to say something like that for years. That’s his main problem, you know? When he was still around, he always wanted us to act like everybody else in the neighborhood, like we were happy and had money when it just wasn't like that. He wanted me and Will to be normal boys and we just aren't… especially Will. He was….” a shaky laugh held back tears. He shook his head. “And once, that asshole even told Will to his face not to be a fag.”

Barb gasped and the car almost veered off the road. “No!”

“It was during this stupid fight. He said it mainly to get at mom but the look in Will's eyes… That's when Mom kicked him out for good. Right then and there.”

This torrent of fact blended with personal feelings was a lot like striking oil. A wellspring bubbling up, unstoppable. This was _so good_ for him!

Barb reached over and laced their fingers tightly. _Keep talking_ she urged silently. But after a few short sentences about the divorce, Jonathan fell quiet.

Her own mind raced with these new facts.

“So Will was….?”

Jonathan nodded. “You could just tell.”

She waited a beat or two, but he wasn't going to say anything. So she prompted him. “You said we.”

“Hm?”

“ _We_ aren't normal. That's what you said.”

Mortification painted his face red. “Did I? Ha. I--i just meant. Liking the same stuff as other boys. Or...” he gulped as words failed him.

They drove in silence for a good stretch of road before she knew what to say. Frankly, she could sing about this but now wasn't the time. She glanced over at him. “Hey. I don't like normal boys. I don't understand normal boys. I barely even understand normal girls for that matter. So…. maybe that means I'm no more normal than you.”

Dimples sank into both cheeks. Barb felt a little breathless at the sight and that was because it was a smile of acceptance instead of judgment. She had literally confessed something she barely even understood about herself, this raw unshaped factoid and he didn't laugh at her.

He shrugged, dark eyes glittering at her. “What is normal anyway?”

His smile was that cute impish one that made his top lip kinda pointy. She chuckled. “Right? Screw the world. You’ll be you. I’ll be me. We’ll be friends.”

“Exactly.”

A moment later his smile fell, and his eyes went dark with grief. Barb understood. She laced their fingers and he squeezed back and she drove on with her bandaged hand.

They did not let go until they reached the graveyard.

 

 

One thing Jonathan had learned so far about acute grief. It came in peaks and valleys, weird unexpected tides. Sometimes he could actually forget that his innocent baby brother had been chased to his death alone in the cold dark night. Sometimes life could still make him smile. That was all Barb, he knew. How strange, that he gained a friend just as he lost another.

He remembered his mom told him about angels and stuff when he was little. He wondered if Will had cut a deal with the very first one he met to make them send Barb into his life…

Truthfully, Jonathan wasn't even sure heaven and angels and all of that even existed but just then he found a little comfort in it. Maybe Will had been saved from a lifetime of Lonnies treating him like shit for being different. Maybe where he was, they let him be a wizard that liked other wizards.

“Do you believe in Heaven?” Jonathan asked suddenly into the quiet of the car as she pulled into a line of cars on the grass of the graveyard.

“I was raised Catholic. If I say I don't then I get this crushing kind of guilt,” she chuckled. “So I guess I do.”

He smiled. “I think we're supposed to be Presbyterian. Whatever that means.”

“I haven't been to church in years,” she said. She sighed and looked through the windshield at the row of weathered old tombstones. “It just makes more sense to me to appreciate the blessings in my life and the beauty in the world in my own space, on my own time. You know?”

Jonathan liked that. “I think… I think I want to believe there's a better place. For Will.”

“There is,” she said.

He didn't know if she only said it for his benefit or if she really believed it, but he appreciated the sincere smile.

 

Jonathan sat with his mother at the graveside service. Barb slipped away to stand with her mother in the back to give the family and those who actually knew Will their space. Barb's mom put a loving arm around her waist. "Hey, baby. You look beautiful."  
  
"Not really the point, mommy," Barb whispered.  
  
"I'm never not going to tell you that you're beautiful when I see it."  
  
"Okay thanks."  
  
"How are they holding up?"  
  
Barb grimaced. "As to be expected."  
  
"Are you getting any rest?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Her father hugged her next. "He's still been a gentleman right?"  
  
"Oh, Doug, not here of all places!"  
  
"Yes, Daddy. I swear. We've been holding hands and hugging. That's it."  
  
Her father narrowed his eyes but her mother lifted an interested eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and turned away from them because the service was starting.  
  
Barb couldn't help but watch Jonathan sit and stare at his own knees crying silently while Joyce sat with dry eyes staring straight ahead. Her heart hurt.  
  
After the service, Barb noticed Nancy coming over. Alone. She looked apologetic and a little bit timid. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Barb said back. “Where's Steve?”

Honestly, Barb was surprised that the boy didn't use the funeral as an excuse to miss school. But maybe his precious reputation didn't support affiliation with the Byers family for any reason.

“We broke up.”

Shocked, Barb reached out and touched Nancy’s shoulder compassionately. She may have hated the guy but Nancy obviously didn't. “You did? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy said with this heavy sigh. “As fun as it was to be with him, it’s just causing too much trouble. I don't want to fight anymore, Barb.”

A bad taste entered her mouth. “Don't break up with a boy over me, Nance. If you like him--”

“He went too far last night, the things he said about Will and Jonathan. He made a bad situation worse and we ended up fighting about it and the whole thing is just a mess.”

Barb wasn't sure what Nancy wanted her to say. Sorry? Because none of it had been her fault, or Jonathan’s. It was all on them for barging in on a painful moment and making outlandish accusations.

Nancy had a hopeful arc in her eyebrows. “So… did you go back to your house last night finally?”

Barb made a face. “No.”

Nancy balked. “Seriously? You have a change of clothes there?”

“I made a commitment to help the Byers through the funeral. I brought clothes and spaghetti and everything else I would need to be there for my friends. I would do the same for you if it had been Mike who fell. Stop acting like it's this huge deal.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you and I guess it was pretty crappy of me to assume you are sleeping with him already.”

“Already?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, come on.” Nancy gave her a condescending head tilt. “He's a cute boy. You obviously like him. If things keep going this way then---”

“Then nothing.” Barb insisted.

“Trust me. These things happen _so fast_. One minute you're just hanging out and then suddenly.”

Barb scoffed. Nancy looked exasperated. “I'm just warning you!”

“Thanks, but it really isn't necessary. Sex isn't--that kind of stuff--we aren't like that.”

Nancy had a crooked smile. “Just give it time.”

Heat started to inch up her neck while her stomach hollowed out. Barb could see herself from the outside--this teenage girl spending her every waking moment wrapped up in a boy and insisting it isn't what it looked like. Just like Nancy three days ago.

 _Would_ things change all at once like Nancy said?

Barb thought of the way Jonathan avoided eye contact and physical touches whenever possible, the way his accidental confession of not being normal had resonated within her. There was something different about Jonathan Byers…. and maybe something different about herself, too.

“Okay, whatever,” Barb said. She didn't want to fight right now, at a gravesite. Her eye strayed over to the Byers family. Mother and son stood together a step away from Lonnie, who shook people’s hands.

Jonathan caught her eye, whispered to his mother, kissed her cheek and stepped away. Barb left Nancy with a tight smile and met him halfway. He jerked his head toward the cars. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

From his inside coat pocket, he pulled a piece of folded notebook paper. “I drew this while you were getting ready this morning. It's a map of all the known monster sightings. They’re all within a mile of each other.”

“So it's nest or den or whatever must be in that area!”

“Exactly.”

“Some of that is the new military training grounds. They're not going to let us poke around. We could get in big trouble.”

“Only if they catch us.”

“I don't know Jon, it seems pretty risky. Those guys meant business last time.”

He folded the paper and faced her. “I appreciate everything you've done for me and my mom, Barb. You don't have to come with me on this. But I'm going. I have to. People think my mom neglected him and that's why he died. Mom is afraid she's going crazy. Lonnie is already sure she lost it. I have to prove them all wrong! No matter how dangerous it is.”

“Okay,” Barb said. “I'm going with you. Two medieval blades are better than one, right?”

Jonathan dimpled. “Right.” And then he leaned and his soft lips glanced off her cheek.

 

 

Nancy huffed when she watched her friend walk away from her with Jonathan Byers. Again.

What the hell?

She felt like crying. All this time she’d needed to tell someone she trusted about what it had been like to lose her virginity, and now she needed that same person to talk with about the pain of the still fresh break up--but that person wasn't interested in hearing any of it!

And why? Because some _weird_ boy lost his brother.

She watched Jonathan pull Barb off to the side and show her something on a piece of paper. They spoke in low voices. Barb shook her head. Jonathan stepped closer to her with his back to Nancy and the crowd and spoke firmly. Barb sighed and nodded.

He kissed her cheek. She blushed and ducked her head. He left her there and cut across the grass to a black muscle car. He opened the door with a furtive enough glance around that Nancy was sure it wasn't his car. He dug through the glove box and as he came back out--

Nancy gasped. That flash of black metal was a hand gun. She was sure of it.

He slid it into his jacket pocket and returned to Barb. With a hand at her back, he guided her to his car and opened the passenger side door for her. She climbed in obediently and he shut the door, hurried around and got behind the wheel.

Having recently learned her lesson about jumping to conclusions with the whole pay check-not-drugs thing, Nancy reined in her panic and cut over to Mrs and Mr Byers. She gave her condolences, having to explain to Mr. Byers how her little brother had been close friends with Will. Mrs Byers remembered her, at least, from when she played dungeons and dragons with them forever ago.

“Well thanks for coming,” Mr. Byers said somewhat dismissively.

“Sure. Um, actually. Do you happen to know where Barb and Jonathan went?”

“Jonathan?” Joyce looked around. “He left?”

“Yeah,” Nancy said. Mr Byers swore and mumbled under his breath. Meanwhile, Joyce scoffed and closed her eyes with a shake of her head.

“I don't blame him. This whole thing is ridiculous. Will isn't even dead!”

Alarmed Nancy asked. “What do you mean?”

Mr Byers swooped in, hand in the small of the woman's back. “Okay, Joyce cut it out. It's time for the wake. Let's have a smoke before we go to the church, huh?”

He guided her to the very same black muscle car that Jonathan had taken the gun out of. He retrieved packs of smokes and they both paused to have one.

Just then, Nancy's mother caught up to her with Mike at her side and so she walked with them over to the church.

She didn't like this. Where was Jonathan going that was more important than his little brother's wake? And why did he need a gun?

Something just wasn't right.

 

 

 

The surprise kiss to the cheek had distracted her but now, Barb worried her lip and didn't know where to begin.

As part of his grieving process, Jonathan clearly needed to avenge his brother and erase the rumors going around about his mother by exposing the unbelievable truth. Barb wished there was a way he could do both without wandering into a government restricted zone with nothing but a handgun and an axe.

When he had shown her the gun, Barb got a bad feeling. Now she couldn't shake it.

They'd been given a clear warning. There was probably going to be signs mounted. What if that allowed those soldiers to kill them on sight without retribution?

Barb shivered at the too real possibility of taking a sniper shot to the head at just 17. The fear prompted her to speak. “Jon, I want to help you. I do. But I can't stop feeling like we have to be smarter than this.”

“You're scared.”

“I'm terrified.”

“Me too,” he whispered. And then he sat straighter and spoke more firmly. “But no matter what we feel it can't possibly be close to the terror Will felt leading up to his death.” Jonathan's voice was thick with grief but steady. “I told you. I can do this alone if I have to.”

“Don't talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're alone in this or something! Like it's all on you to fix this.”

Jonathan stared straight ahead, fisted the wheel and said nothing.

“I agree that the thing should be killed. The lab should be exposed but... maybe we should get help.”

“Help,” he echoed flatly.

“Maybe…” she hedged but then went with it. “Maybe the chief? Do you think he would?”

Jonathan scoffed at the name and shook his head. “He couldn't even be bothered to come to the funeral.”

“Well, if his daughter died at the same age it can't be easy for him...”

“When it's the right thing to do, it shouldn't matter if it's easy or not.”

Barb had to admit Jonathan was right on that one. She had been disappointed when she had realized the weary head of Hawkins law enforcement wasn't at the funeral. She had been sure he would come and yet--he wasn't there.

Couldn't he have at least called that morning to say why not?

Well, maybe he knew Lonnie would be at the house and thought better of it.

Or maybe he just didn't care. He was only ever Jonathan's _almost_ father, not really anything to Will at all… But that didn't even feel right to think. Not when Barb had seen the chief torn up over Jonathan and Joyce’s pain…

Jonathan suddenly sighed and admitted, “It is stupid dangerous to go back to where those guys with guns were. And my map only partially includes the restricted area… so… we search the other known locations first. Maybe we'll even drive it towards them and _they_ can be the ones to actually kill it.”

Barb brightened and turned more towards him. “That sounds like a great plan! I mean it's still dangerous but at least we only risk being killed by an unknown beast instead of risking our lives against a beast _and_ the American government.”

As she had hoped, Jonathan cracked a grin at that. It had a nervous tilt to it, the same as what Barb felt in herself. Were they really doing this?

“You've fired a gun before, right?” She asked.

“Once,” he said, and he took the turn down his driveway. “Which is why we're going to have some target practice before we go.”

 

 


	11. Welcome to the Monster Squad

Jonathan chose a little clearing in the woods by his house to set up their target practice. Barb realized she was talking a lot. Ranting really. But she couldn't help it. And Jonathan listened so patiently words just kept pouring out of her.

“I mean,” she scoffed as she aimed at the cans. “She was just  _ so _ sure that we’d cave and accidentally have sex or something. Like, seriously Nancy?”

“Sure,” Jonathan grumbled. “The same way she  _ accidently _ took her shirt off. An accident is knocking over a cup of milk. Having sex is a loss of self control.”

“The thing is I'm sure she didn't _ lose control _ ,” Barb scathed, pausing in her aiming to adjust the her fraying bandage of her thumb. “She was calculated. She knew what she was doing when she dragged me to that party. She had a new push up bra and everything. But was she straightforward about it? No. She kept acting all innocent.”

So far, with the gun, Jonathan was pretty good--at hitting the empty spaces between cans. Barb was a little better but not by much. She tried it with each hand. Her injured thumb made things twice as difficult with the left, so she stuck with the right, or used both at once.

Maybe it was her anger that helped her aim, but she wasn't half bad. She wasn't sure if it was cathartic or dangerous to rant about the idiots in her school whilst she wielded a gun.

“Nancy is just like every girl in the suburbs,“ Jonathan said in a dismissive tone and a bump of his shoulders. “Desperate to rebel but not even realizing that the way she's rebelling is the way everyone else is doing it so she's still conforming.”

“With Nancy though it was never about rebelling so much as actually experiencing something that she feels her mother wants to keep from her. She’s curious. So curious she's reckless about it.”

“Yeah well, curiosity is a powerful motivator.” Jonathan said. “Mom told me I'm only here because she was curious about doing more than hand stuff.”

“Ew,” Barb grimaced through a smile. “Your mom talks to you about _ hand stuff _ ?”

“She just wants to make sure that I make informed decisions. Hand stuff might seem like a good way to avoid getting pregnant but it leads too easily to risky stuff. She’s been telling me since puberty that the last thing we need is for me to knock up some girl before college.”

“My dad has the same paranoia. Especially now that I'm actually spending time with a guy. Every time I see him now he's checking in. Making sure you're not taking advantage or something. As if you would at a time like this.”

“Well, a normal guy probably would. In a world without monsters.”

“Well, in a world WITH monsters you're my kind of normal, Jonathan. Just know that, okay?”

He smiled wide and bright and then focused on the cans. “Okay.”

After emptying the chambers, he turned the gun back over to her. She loaded as she mused aloud. “What the hell is it about sex that makes people think it's worth the risks involved?”

“It feels good,” Jonathan said with a shrug.

Barb lifted an eyebrow and he blushed, looked away as he flashed his palms at her in surrender. “Or so I've heard.”

“For guys maybe but for girls I've heard it really hurts the first time or two.”

“Yeah mom said the same thing.” Once again, he smirked when Barb lifted an eyebrow. “I told you,  _ informed decisions _ .”

“Joyce sounds like a really cool mom. Mine is great but she could barely even use the scientific names when she told me about the birds and the bees.”

Jonathan snorted. “Birds and bees. Ha. Mom called it  _ locking legs and swapping gravy _ , so she isn't half as cool as she might seem.”

Barb broke down giggling so much she couldn't take her turn. She handed the gun back to him when he motioned for it. He grinned as if her laughter was contagious.

Barb had gotten control of herself by the time Jonathan took a few shots and hit the last can. He lowered the weapon as she went to sit the targets back up.

“The fact is society is obsessed with sex and stuff,” Jonathan said as she went. “But it's not for any mysterious reason, really. It's just dopamine and endorphins. It's a drug high like any other. Except it's usually legal and socially acceptable. That's why the world acts like it's this amazing magical thing.”

He handed the gun to Barb. The question popped from her lips before she could think better of it. “Do you want to have sex?”

His head snapped up, eyes wide with either surprise or terror. “What? You mean right now?”

Barb closed the bullet chamber and gave it a spin as she scoffed with a blush painting her fond smile. “No. Yes--I mean. I didn't mean for that to sound like a proposition. I just meant, do you obsessively wish you could have it like the other guys our age? You know, drooling over--people.” She changed the last word from  _ girls _ to something non specific at the last second. He had said he was  _ different _ , after all.

Jonathan seemed tensed and kept his eyes locked on the ground like when they first met and he didn't know or trust her at all. “Not really,” he said. “I-I mean… sometimes I'm curious. But not enough to be an idiot for attention like most guys. I would usually rather just take pictures and listen to music.”

“Right?” Barb gushed. “It sounds lame, but I  _ love _ doing homework and studying. It makes me feel good about myself and sex just wouldn't. Not right now anyway.” Jonathan beamed at her. She continued with an eye roll. “I tried to tell Nancy but she just shut me down. Like I don't know what I'm talking about.”

“Well, I know that you aren't just talking shit,” Jonathan said. “I get what you're saying. It makes sense to me.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve never talked to anyone about this stuff before,” he said shyly. “Because of how it sounds. Like I'm more of a freak than they already think I am. The guys already call me limp dick and stuff like that."

“Screw them,” Barb said and squeezed the trigger. A can popped off the branch. Jonathan smiled.

“You have it easier. Being a girl,” he said as he took the gun for his turn. Their fingers brushed. “Chastity makes you modest and even more attractive.”

Barb blushed. “Some say it makes me a prude.”

“Assumed prudence is better than your peers thinking you're twisted enough to only get it up in sick ways.”

“Like douchebag Steve Harrington?”

With a moue of distaste, Jonathan aimed and the bullet splintered the wood right under a can, causing it to wobble and drop to the ground. They had already agreed to call that a hit, since the monster was certainly bigger than an empty dog food can.

The roar of an engine through the trees brought their attention back to the house. Jonathan’s lips lost the downward curl and his shoulders returned to their natural set. “He’s gone.”

Barb saw a fast glimpse of a black car through the bare branches along the road. Lonnie flung gravel as he pulled onto the highway.

When Barb looked at Jonathan again, a cloud had entered his eyes. “That was fast.”

Barb thought it had to be super weird to hate your dad and not want him around but still feel bad when he left. Not knowing what else to say she asked, “Do you think they got in a fight?”

“I know they did,” Jonathan sighed. He looked toward the house with a sad weight in his eye. For the hundredth time, Barb thanked God for her parents.

She gave him a light brush to the upper spine which made his head turn in her direction like a wild animal halfway tamed but with flight instincts fully intact. She grinned crookedly at him. “Let's go see if she's okay.”

“No,” Jonathan said. “Mom always needs her space after Lonnie pisses her off.”

“Okay.”

  
  


For Jonathan, it felt good to finally be doing something about everything.  When Barb walked with him into the woods, that felt even better. So few people in his life followed their words with actions, it was rejuvenating to experience from a new source. A friend to pick up the ball his father dropped.

Leaves crunched underfoot and bare branches occasionally trailed fingers across his arms. After only a couple of minutes of marching, they found the perimeter. The military had indeed posted signs around the area designating the training grounds.

He glanced at Barb. She had the handgun ready, scanning the area. Jonathan hefted the axe and lead the way along the imaginary barrier. It forced them into dense underbrush and he began to utilize the blade by chopping away the prickly thorns from their path. It was hard work.

Just as he began to notice his shortness of breath and the sweat beading on his neck, Barb offered to take a turn. She had half his swinging power but managed to forge a path nonetheless by making more precise and calculated hits to the base of the bushes, bringing the whole thing down rather than merely one side of it.

Smirking at her cleverness, he kicked the fallen debris out of the way and kept a sharp eye out while she focused on the work. They finally busted through the other side of the brush and stopped to congratulate themselves for getting so far. Two hours had passed at least. The breeze was colder now with the sun lowered overhead. It felt good at the moment on their overheated skin.

Barb traded the axe for the gun and wiped her brow with the back of her wrist, holding the gun limply. “Whew. Monster hunting is serious exercise!”

To that he only grinned.

The next Training Zone signage was to the right. Steve Harrington’s house lay off to the left. The first monster sighting. The military would be focused on Will’s accident sight. They didn't know about Barb’s close call.

“What do you think the chances are it's here? I mean, if it really hates water…” Barb pivoted on the spot, gun arm locked at her side. Jonathan noted a tremor. “Would it stick around?”

“Look for any signs that it has been here recently. Tracks or… or dropping or something.”

They both moved instinctively toward the pool. Every rustle of leaves made them jump. But it was just the wind.

“HEY!”

Steve Harrington’s voice rang out from the corner of the garage. He had just stepped from the house and spied them in the treeline. He threw the unlit cigarette from his lips to the ground and charged Jonathan. Behind him, Nancy gave chase.

“Peeping again, you perv?!” the senior bellowed.

Jonathan crossed the axe in front of himself in defense. At sight of the murderous weapon, the pretty boy’s bruised face paled and he skidded to a stop, catching his girlfriend before she ran past. “Nancy, look out! He’s crazy!”

“Jonathan? What the hell?” Nancy yelled.

He didn't remember speech. Terror froze him in place, outside his own body where he could clearly see himself in the role of creepy axe murderer. This was embarrassing as hell.

Barb jumped forward. “Wait, wait, just hang on a second! It isn't what it looks like!”

The weight of the axe tripled in his relief. Barb was here. He let the weapon drop, and the blade thumped to the ground in front of one shoe. He stared at it rather than the abrasive teens.

“BARB?” Nancy shrieked. “Is that a gun?”

“Okay. Calm down. I can explain everything. We aren't here for you. It's for Will and the thing that killed him!”

“What?”

“There is a thing--”

“A monster.” Jonathan cut in, two clear strong words. Maybe it was smarter to not tell anyone, but since Barb had already mentioned it he certainly wouldn't leave her hanging out there on a limb alone.

Barb turned a quarter towards him and Jonathan could swear he felt a radio frequency from her that broadcasted the exact same relief to have him with her as he had felt when she leapt to defend him. She touched her glasses in that way she did when she was focusing herself to a task.

“Yes. It's huge and ugly and it tried to kill me at the party. It came from over there. If Jonathan hadn't been here it would have killed me. Just like it killed Will.”

Jonathan lifted his eyes from the ground. Steve and Nancy stared at them as if they were insane. He leaned on the axe a little, to hear it grind against the cement. “We know you don't believe us. No one believes my mom either. But there is a monster loose that took him. When it comes the lights flicker and it can mess up phones and--”

“Lights? You're lights are flickering too?” Steve asked. The big shiner Jonathan had given him last night didn't keep the look of bafflement out of his face.

Barb gasped and grabbed his arm. “That means it’s near here!”

Nancy scoffed. “It means the power company has a problem!”

All three of them shook their head at her.

“Nance, listen to me. This is  _ real.  _ Those signs posted over there? The military did that. We crossed them the day they were out marking the perimeter and it was very clear that they weren't training.”

“They were Hunting.” Jonathan said.

Steve gulped. “They came to the house. Asked a few things… I thought it was kind of weird.”

“See? They let it out and now they are trying to catch it and cover it all up!”

“Oh man.” Steve ran a hand through his hair.

“You believe this?” Nancy asked him.

“I mean, strange things have been happening around here. First the lights then Mom heard that little boy--”

Jonathan’s breathe zipped backwards. “ _ What _ little boy? When?”

Steve’s tongue flicked over his lip. “Okay. Mom got in late from work and she thought she heard me crying--but not  _ me  _ me, like a younger me. She said for a second it was like I was a little kid and had a scraped knee or whatever. She ran out here, didn't see anything. Figured she was just too tired and went to sleep.”

Jonathan held eye contact with the senior for longer than he had ever looked at him. “That was Will.”

“She considered that. But this was after they found him so…”

“My mom heard him breathing. He called the house and the phone exploded.”

Nancy shook her head. “A ghost? Are you kidding?”

Barb put an arm around Nancy and used a teacher-tone. A gentle reprimand for speaking out of turn, a way to protect him without hurting Nancy either. “Hey. Just. We don't have all the answers okay. We just have weird facts. Some kind of monster killed him and it is still out here. We need to find it before it hurts anyone else.”

“Where is your mom. Can I talk to her?”

“She flew out this morning. Sorry.”

“What about out here? Have you seen anything like… an animal without fur?”

He shook his head. “How big?”

“Huge.” Barb said. Jonathan reached for his shoulder bag before realizing he didn't have it. Damn. That picture would be useful right now. “I have a picture of it. It isn't great but it can give you an idea of what it is.”

“That’s what he was doing here that night. He was getting that picture.” Barb said a little fiercely.

Her words made it sound like he had known of the monster before hand. He worried his lip against his teeth before deciding to let the assumption slide. They couldn't afford to lose Harrington’s trust. If he wanted to, he could have the entire tri-county area whispering about the insane Byers family. His parents were with the press.

“Show us.” Nancy demanded.

“It's back at his house.”

“Come with us and you’ll see for yourself.”

Barb glanced at him. “You sure? It can be dangerous.”

“You have weapons, right?”

Steve stepped into the garage and came out with a baseball bat. Nancy dropped her head back. “Am I the only one who doesn't believe in Boogeyman?”

“Seeing is believing.” Barb said.

“Well, like Sir Doyle said, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

Jonathan and Barb both double looked Steve. He jumped his eyebrows. Barb shot Jonathan a glance that said plainly  _ Holmes fan. Go figure. _

A smile squirmed on Jonathan's face but he rolled his lips and the feeling soon passed. The monster squad may have just doubled, but that by no means made the mission any easier. He sighed. “The sun is going down. We need to hurry.”

 


	12. A Good Hiding Place

**Chapter Twelve: A Good Hiding Place**

At first Barb and Jonathan walked side by side ahead of the group, leading the other two teenagers further into the woods. They didn't speak. Barb felt like she should be talking a mile a minute, explaining every tiny little thing that had been happening to her. But she didn't know where to start and anyway now probably wasn't the best time to get into it...

They had a monster to find.

In the back of the group, Steve and Nancy exchanged nervous whispers, and from what Barb could catch of it, Steve was willing to find proof of this “so called monster.” While his obvious doubt made her grit her teeth, Barb was appreciative of the chance the older boy was taking on them. She traded the weight of the gun from one hand to the other, peering around for the monster.

 _You will soon enough know the truth, Steve Harrington_ , she thought. Even if they didn't find the monster tonight, Steve could see the photographic evidence at Jonathan’s house.

Eventually, the group began to spread out a little, and Barb dropped back to walk with Nancy, sensing that the girl was lagging behind because she was feeling lost and afraid.

Nancy looked up from watching her feet, and Barb gave her estranged friend a smile that she realized came out as tight and insincere, but she couldn't help it. Nancy felt like a stranger all of the sudden.  

“Sorry I couldn't tell you at first,” Barb said.

Nancy’s brow was knit with worry. “Barb, this is _crazy_. Isn't it?”

“It absolutely is…” Barb assured. “But it's _real_ , too, Nance. Just give us a chance to prove it. Please?”

Nancy drew a deep breath but ended up not saying anything. Her little mouth clamped shut, and she returned the same tight smile Barb had given her. Barb didn't know what she could possibly do to make Nancy believe short of showing her the monster. She looked around the dark woods, wishes warring with instinct. She wanted her friend to see it, so that she was _know_ , but her self preservation begged that she never ever cross paths with that freak beast again.

“It's getting dark--we should go,” Nancy said.

Jonathan glanced back, catching Barb’s eye. They traded a silent understanding that they would keep on until they had proof for their peers, one way or the other.

“We can't turn back now.”

“We’re close.”

“To your house?”

“About halfway.” Jonathan hedged. Barb made his original point clearer. “This thing is nocturnal. We have the best chance of seeing it at night.”

Upon the announcement of the better likelihood of a sighting, the group of wandering teens tightened once more. This time Steve fell in beside Jonathan so that the boys went ahead of the girls.

“Okay,” Steve said with an air of getting down to business. “Start from the top. What happened first?”

Barb stayed back with Nancy but kept her attention on the boys ahead, listening as Jonathan explained about the night at the pool and the photographic evidence. And even a quick summary of the things his mother had experienced.

Steve nodded along. “Our electricity went bonkers a few times this past week. And--between what mom heard, what happened to Will and then those random soldiers… I know _something_ is going on.”

“Steve--” Nancy begged. “Don't feed into their--”

“Nancy,” the boy looked over his shoulder at his girlfriend. “You’ve been saying for days now that something strange is happening to Barb. What else would make a totally normal girl act like this? Look at them, Nance. They _believe_ what they're saying. Don't you want to know why?”

“We’re not _crazy_ ,” Jonathan said hotly.

“We’ll prove what is going on one way or the other,” Steve said. “But no matter how it turns out, we’re gonna help you guys.”

Barb snorted in the face of his sincerity. “Your plan is to prove there is no monster and then have us committed.”

“My plan is to find the truth. No matter how painful it is,” Steve said.

The determination caused Barb to swallow her next comeback. She suddenly recalled that he was on the school paper and in the journalism club. She had always assumed that it was because his bachelor uncle owned the local paper and would someday leave it to Steve. She had never thought he could actually hold the values of a journalist.

“You’ll get the truth,” Jonathan said. “Just stick with us.”

  
  


A couple of hours later the sun set. Under the trees night came early. Jonathan and Barb had come armed with flashlights. Since Nancy and Steve didn't have their own, they stayed in pairs. The boys and the girls.

Jonathan would have preferred to stay with Barb, but he knew she had a lot of stuff to work out with her friend so he gave her the space she needed for that. Steve seemed to understand his girlfriend needed the same thing because he stuck with Jonathan rather than making himself a third wheel.

“So you and Barb huh?” the other boy asked.

“It's not like that.” Jonathan blushed.

“Oh really?” His tone was cocky but not in a cruel way.

“No!” Jonathan returned firmly. “Look, _yes_ I took her home from that party, but it was only because I saved her from the monster by knocking her into your pool and it just made sense to go back to my house.”

“Sure okay.” The tone was too smiley and it grated on Jonathan's sensibilities. His jaw tightened and he blurted. “You have it all wrong. I'm not even interested in girls.”

The moment he said it, he wished he could take it back. A painfully awkward silence fell. He sensed Steve falter in his step and then turn to study him.

“Oh so you're…” Steve trailed off.

“No--I--I mean… I don't know. I mean I know… I just…. I'm not interested in _people_ .” He realized with a lurch that putting it like that sounded like he was a freak that did it with animals or something so he rushed to say, “I mean, I'm a loner right? I--I Iike to be _alone_ . Nothing _weird_ . I'm not a _pervert_.”

“If you don't like girls why'd you have that picture of Nancy?”

Jonathan’s gut sank with lead. A fight was coming. He just knew it. He was going to say the wrong thing trying to explain himself, and Steve was going to push him again. It crossed Jonathan's mind that he was holding an ax, and he just felt sick. This could get _really bad_ ….

He had to try to explain himself without getting worked up. And maybe it was because Steve was willing to believe in monsters, or maybe it was the way he hadn't made cruel.remarks to what had to have sounded like a confession of being gay. Whatever it was had Jonathan, all at once, sharing with the other teen. “I'm a photographer. It's the only form of art I'm any good at and it's my way of coping with things when it all gets too difficult and -- and it's a way to express myself or, or, participate in the world without having to actually put myself out there?”

His own words stunned him. That actually made sense. He knew at once it was because he'd already spoken of it to Barb who had helped him figure out the words…

Feeling bolder he continued. “I was looking for Will and taking pictures of where he was last seen because it was making me feel better, and then I stumbled onto your party. I took pictures of it because… because it was sort of like being there and then…” Jonathan shook his head, but focused on where his flashlight illuminated the trees, rather than look at the other boy. “I swear I wasn't thinking dirty thoughts when I took her picture in that window. I was following the story the pictures made… I just wasn't _thinking_ about how normal people might see it…”

Steve made a noise in his throat, one of humor. Jonathan realized it was because he had referred to himself as not normal. He suddenly felt too exposed and didn't know what else to say. The silence stretched in between them.

“Look we’ll all forget the picture then, okay?” Steve said.

Jonathan huffed in surprise and relief. “Good.”

“So, you're really not into Barb?” Steve asked and judging by the tone he was purposefully trying to lighten the mood. “If she changed her hair and got cooler glasses and dressed like Nancy does, you know like a cool girl, then she'd be really cute.”

“She's cute the way she is,” Jonathan shot back. “And I told you, I'm not interested in people. Not like that.”

“That doesn't make sense. Everyone is into _someone_.”

“Not me,” Jonathan sighed. He didn't feel the need to explain himself further though. Barb understood him. That was all that mattered.

“Well _she's_ totally into you,” Steve said.

“No she's not.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, keep telling yourself that, I guess.”

 

The boys were far enough ahead that they had some privacy but not too far that Barb couldn't see their flashlight. They were talking. She wondered what about...

“I've missed you,” Nancy said, at last breaking the silence between them.

“Me, too,” Barb said. “I'm sorry I had to push you away. We had decided not to tell people. We know how it sounds.”

“So is this what you've been doing all week? Prowling the woods with dangerous weapons?”

“No,” Barb admitted. “We only came out here to hunt once before. In daylight.  But the soldiers turned us away.”

“This is nuts.”

“Please just trust me, Nance. I can really use my best friend right now. So much is going on…”

“Like what?” Nancy asked.

Barb hesitated but then sighed. “Nothing _has happened_ between me and Jonathan.  No more than hugging and holding hands but… I guess... I feel like something could? Maybe. Someday. And that's a big deal for me, Nancy.”

“You like him?”

“He’s my friend,” Barb said. “And please note that I’m not saying he’s _just_ a friend because like I said…. I feel a certain kind of _potential_ … maybe…” Barb scoffed. “I don't know. It's all so confusing.”

“That _just_ _a friend_ comment is a dig at me, isn't it?”

“Come on, Nance. It was your mantra even when you and Steve were making out and rolling around on the walls of public bathrooms. It was annoying the way you denied what was happening every step of the way. Like I was some kind of baby that couldn't possibly see for myself what was happening. I would have been your friend even if you'd have been straight with me about it.”

Nancy sighed. “I'm sorry. But I was lying to myself as much as to you. I knew what I was doing? But I didn't want to face it. You know?”

“Some would say that's a sign that you weren't ready to do the things you were doing.”

Nancy scoffed. “Tell me about it.

Barb stopped walking and took her friend by the arm. “You regret it?”

“No…. _Yes_ …” Nancy scoffed, folding her arms against the enclosing night around them. “I don’t know. I mean I love him. He’s _so great_. But… it wasn't like I thought it would be and then I felt weird after and…” she shrugged. “I've already told him I'll need more time before we do it again and he’s being cool about it. He's not a bad guy, Barb.”

“Well, if he reads Conan-Doyle _and_ respects you like that then I suppose I can try to be his friend.”

Nancy laughed and playfully shoved Barb. They started walking again so that the boys wouldn't get too far ahead. It suddenly didn't feel so dangerous out here. It felt like they were just a couple of teenage girls on a midnight hike with some cute boys…. For one brief flash in the pan, Barb thought maybe that's what a normal life would feel like.

“So Jonathan Byers is your friend,” Nancy said with a grin in her voice. Barb realized that she'd been smiling to herself and that Nancy might have gotten the wrong idea about where her thoughts had gone.

“Yes,” she said somewhat primly. “And he's a good friend. A great one, even. We've had these amazing talks…” Barb trailed off. She suddenly didn't feel like divulging the topic of these talks, their shared lack of interest in sexual exploration at this time.

Nancy was smiling. She began to speak, but Steve hushed them.

“Hear that?”

All four of them stopped talking, moving together into a tight knit group once more. Barb listened intently for several seconds before she heard the pitiful noise.

“What is that?”

“It's over there.” Jonathan started walking to the right. They followed with trepidation.

“What is it?” Steve whispered, gripping the back of Jonathan's coat.

The animal sound drew the clinging group a few shuffled steps further, around the thick brush.

Barb caught her breath at the dark mass on the ground. A second later, she realized it had fur. It was a deer. Wounded and bleeding to death.

“Oh my God!”

“It must have been hit by a car and dragged itself this far.” Jonathan surmised.

“Poor thing.” Nancy whispered.

“We should put it out of its misery.” Steve said.

“I’ll do it.” Barb had the gun, after all. Shooting cans was easy, but a living thing--especially a deer that had never hurt a soul--that wasn't so easy to shoot. But it had to be done. It was the kinder way.

“Do it fast.”

Barb aimed but hesitated. In that second, a skinny pale arm with a large claw shot out of the brush and dragged the whole deer away as if it was just a beanbag.

Both Nancy and Steve screamed. Barb choked in disbelief. A part of her never expected to see the monster again. _But it was right here._

She reached for Jonathan, whose hand met hers halfway. They clung to one another's sleeves as they stumbled backwards, pressing their friends away from the danger.

“There it is!”

“What? What is it?” Steve craned over their heads to better see it, while effectively using Jonathan as a shield. Jonathan didn't mind. In fact, he had even flung his arms out wide to make himself larger to protect the other three of them. Barb clung to his sleeve, and forced words past her clenched throat. “Jon… let's get out of here!”

“Wait, wait, do you see that?” he asked. “Look, there.”

“That was…” Nancy sounded and looked to be in complete shock. “What was that… it was… ”

“Where did it go?” Steve looked all around, hugging Nancy close.

Jonathan pointed at the tree just behind the brush. Barb looked and saw the base of it had an opening. “There!”

Nancy squealed with terror, believing Barb was pointing to the monster. When nothing sprang out to eat them too, she uncovered her eyes. Jonathan had moved closer to the opening.

“Do you think it went in there?” Barb asked.

“It’s too small. It wouldn't fit.” Steve said at once.

“No, but Will would fit.” Jonathan said quietly.

Barb caught her breath and gave the hole a good look. Jonathan licked his lips. “I'm going in there.”

“What? Are you insane?” Steve and Nancy began together.

“Jon--” Barb started, but he explained himself.

“If he was running, and he saw a good place to hide… maybe he crawled in and just can't get back out.”

“Um. Will is _dead_." Steve said.

“I-I know they said he was. But…. My mom…. She swears he isn't. She keeps seeing him and and talking to him… I-I don't know. It's just this weird feeling.” Jonathan said to the ground. He looked at the hole with resolution. “I'm going in.”

He took one step and Barb held him back. She couldn't help it. No way did she want him to go towards that monster on purpose. Hunting it for proof was one thing. Chasing it was another.

“Jon--” The words _don't go_ caught in her throat.

The boy met her eye with a steady determination glinting in his dark irises. She loosened her grip.

“ _Be careful_.”

He nodded.

Barb stood back with Nancy and Steve and watched, anxious, as he fit the head of the axe inside the tree and pushed. The weapon sank inexplicably out of sight. Steve ventured away from the group in a small half circle to see behind the tree.

His face said it all. No sign of the axe on the other side. He came back around, one arm looping Nancy and the other settling a hand on Barb’s shoulder. For this particular moment, she appreciated the friendly connection.

“It must have went underground,” Nancy said. “It's an animal den and it's feeding on that deer. Don't go in there.”

Jonathan ignored her, went to his hands and knees, and crawled boldly into the tree hollow. Barb caught her arms around herself, shivering in the cool night and frigid fear…. holding her breath....

When he too vanished from sight, it felt _wrong_. She began to shake. The same frequency tremble she had seen in Joyce since they met.

“We shouldn't have let him--” she covered her nose and mouth and paced away from Steve’s hand on her shoulder and back. “Oh god. This is so stupid. He is _so stupid_.”

Nancy stilled Barb with two hands on her arm, pulled her close and hugged her. It was all the girl knew to do, and it was what Barb needed. She felt shaky with the knowledge that her newest best friend had just crawled into that Thing’s _nest._

  


It was a tight squeeze, and the texture of the tree changed from scratchy bark to warm soft fleshy stuff that pulsed against his back. Jonathan's breath stuttered to a standstill even as he squirmed quickly through the tree trunk.

He stood up on the other side. The wood looked different. Slimy vines dominated the trees, a weird fog drifted a few inches off the ground, white specks floated on the air. Ash? Felt like a haunted snow globe. And it had a funny smell.

The place he had left his friends standing behind the tree was empty now. As if no one had stood there for decades.

His first instinct was to turn around and Go Back. A sense of danger--sharper than anything he had ever imagined such a thing would feel like--rolled up his spine.

But he would have to crawl back through the unnerving channel to see them--or Hawkins--again. Not quite ready to suffer the creepy warm pulsing flesh part of the tree again, he wandered a little from the hiding spot.

He had never forgotten why he risked squeezing into this weird place. He cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted “WILL!!”

_Jonathan!_

His heart lept but he gulped when he recognized Barb’s voice. Distant, more like a memory than a real sound.

“WILL!”

He listened, but there was nothing except eerie silence and that acute danger warning zinging up and down his spine. His heart rate had steadily increased since the first brush against the inexplicable membrane inside the tree. It was so fast now he could hardly swallow, and his breathing was shallow.

_Jonathan!_

At the distant, somewhat muffled sound of Barb's voice, he spun on the spot, but could see no one. Had Barb followed him here? He stumbled over to where his friend and two classmates had been, terrified to think of Barb in this place.

“Barb?” he asked into the vault like silence. Glancing at the channel he'd come through he found it looked no different than before. Maybe she hadn't come after him. Maybe he'd been simply imagining her voice...

_Jon!_

That was definitely her. And as distant as her voice had sounded, it also hadn't sounded very far away at all. Like she was talking into the end of a hundred foot long pipe buried in the ground, and his end of the pipe was right beside his ear.

He paused and focused on the space right beside him, the corresponding place near the corresponding tree where he'd last seen her. And the moment he focused in there, he felt it.

Jonathan had become extremely familiar with the girl's unique presence these last few days. Comforting. Kind. Safe. He huffed. He could _feel_ her.

Just then a cracking sound split the silence of the strange night. Jonathan whirled. There, yards away, the Monster crouched over an egg big enough for Jonathan himself to curl upside. With horrible squelching noises, the Monster sucked at this egg with its faceless maw drooling thick ropes of saliva.

Transfixed by this horrific sight, he did not see the second Monster until it sprang at him from the left. Leaping out of his skin, Jonathan stumbled backwards.

For the second time that night, he lifted the ax instinctively, but this time swung it with all his might. He thought maybe he hit it, but wasn't sure until the sharp blade cut the bone. That felt the same as splitting a piece of firewood.

The unearthly wail made his ears ache. Hot, black matter splashed over his arm and jeans. He continued his retreat, ax still in hand, heart thumping against the back of his molars.

He reached the hidey hole. From the other side of the icky membrane, he could hear Barb plainly. _“_ Jonathan!”

Behind him, growls approached. Without looking he knew the feeding one had come to avenge its mate. He dove head first into the tunnel, forgetting to fit the ax through first. Dragging it behind was awkward and slowed him down.

He couldn't see ahead or behind. The sounds were too close. They were on him--and knew he was here--they were hungry and angry--saliva wet his neck--

“BARB!” he shouted, white hot panic splintered through his chest.

Something breached the slimy wall ahead of him--a human hand. Barb’s hand. She touched his face, then grabbed a hunk of hair and an ear and part of his shirt and pulled.

He was quite literally birthed out of the tree and straight into Barb’s arms.

  


Jonathan had been gone all of two minutes when Steve suddenly asked again, “Did you hear that?”

Nancy’s head snapped up, attention on the dark trees around them. But Steve was looking at the tree. Barb listened and heard it too. It was Jonathan’s voice, calling his brother.

_WILL!_

_“_ Jonathan!” Barb cried into the night. No answer. Panic gripped her and she moved toward the tree. “I should go in after him--”

“ _No_.” Nancy held her in place.

That terribly urgent feeling intensified. “Jon!” she cried again.

While Nancy held Barb back, Steve ventured near the weird opening in the tree and aimed his flashlight into it. The girls stood tense, a safe distance away, clinging to one another.

Barb's attention remained on the tree until, suddenly, it wasn't. Sensing something just to her left, she looked over and saw nothing.

“Do you see him?” Nancy asked.

“Ugh, no. It looks so gross!” Steve reported. “Like some kind of esophagus or something.” The teen reached to touch it.

“Don’t!” Nancy squeaked.

Steve's fingers brushed the weird flesh and then he lept away, stumbling and dropping the flashlight. “Aaah!! Oh man, yuck! Ugh.”

“What? What happened?” The girls demanded.

“It, it _pulsed_ ,” Steve panted, scrambling to his feet, now back at the safe distance from the tree with the girls. “It was like the esophagus _swallowed_ , you know?”

“Ugh” Nancy said.

All at once, Barb forgot about the strangely familiar presence lingering beside her because she imagined having to go take care of Joyce through a second funeral. With her friend distracted by the disgusting report, she wrenched herself out of Nancy’s hold, and fell to her knees at the base of the tree.

Inside the dark, dank hole--which did indeed look like a freakishly too large and somewhat mutated esophagus--she could hear Jonathan’s panicked breathing and whimpering. Then, loud and clear, a cry for help.

“BARB!”

The hole began to close. She acted quickly and plunged her hand inside the tree, felt him wedged there, grabbed hold of him and pulled with all her strength. Her hold was more of a guide as he wriggled free. One minute he was trapped out of sight, and the next, he spilled into her arms.

He was wheezing, choking, and shaking. She wrapped her arms around him, half certain he was bleeding to death. But no, even in moonlight, she could tell the sticky stuff coating half his body wasn't human blood. Between breathless gasps, he shouted, “It’s coming! It's co--”

“Ssshh, sshhh,” Barb hushed him in his ear. “It closed. The hole closed behind you. It's shut. Ssshhh.”

He calmed, but his body still shook, and he still gasped for breath. She could smell the sweat formed at his hairline.

“Jonathan?” Nancy asked.

“What's the matter with him?” Steve demanded.

Barb glanced back at Steve and Nancy for the first time since diving after Jonathan. Suddenly, she became aware of how Jonathan had landed in her arms, between her lifted knees. She cradled him, quite intimately.

“I--I’m fine.” His death grip on her relaxed. He moved away from her. “Just a--a panic attack. Just give me--a minute…”

Barb stood up out of the leaves, then offered him a hand up as well. “Let's get you home.”  


Jonathan’s lungs worked in overtime just trying to keep up with his racing heart, drawing in breaths so short he felt like he was choking on them. Light headed, everything began to spin. His chest hurt. His hands and feet felt cold as death. It felt very much like he had begun to die at the edges and the creeping stain of it crawled now up his appendages, like some kind of fungus, reaching for his pounding heart to stop it dead.

Barb's hand stroked through his hair, her chest pillowed his head. “You're okay,” she kept saying. Their position was inappropriate. Bizarrely, even as he felt he was dying, he didn't want to make things awkward for Barb, who had been so kind to him.

He choked out a few words about being okay even though he felt far from it, pulling away from her. It was only when he reached up to take the hand Barb offered, that he realized he was covered in monster blood and trembling.

The walk back was a blur as Jonathan kept thinking of that Other place, so cold and so dark… How did a place like that exist inside a tree? And where was it? Was he just imagining that it was all around him, pressing right up against him, but out of sight?

Parts of the woods felt different now. As they walked back over covered ground toward the distant lights of Steve Harrington's backyard, Jonathan noted two different pockets of cold space.

Like the rest of the world was cocooned in a thick warm quilt but here and there were holes covered only by a sheet. That's how the monster moved around, vanishing and appearing from thin air. It could move the sheet.

His dissipating panic increased again. He doubled over for a moment. Never in his life had he had two attacks so close together like this. He became worried for his heart. Not good. He needed to relax.

“Almost there,” Steve's voice was distant beyond the roar of blood in his ears and the clanging of his vital organs. He couldn't understand Nancy’s worried words.

Barb’s tall shape kept an arm locked around his shoulders, other hand squeezing his firmly. This anchor helped him focus on moving fast through the dark woods. The breath from Barb’s lips brushed his cheek.

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

He was reminded of when he had sensed her before. How had he felt Barb near him yet so far away at the same time?


	13. A New Friend In The House

Once back at the Harrington house, Steve let them inside. Apparently, his parents were gone on another work thing. Barb was unspeakably grateful to be able to  get in out of the dark night, even if it was a strange new house which didn't help settle nerves.

They entered through the kitchen. It was comfortably warm and well lit, at least.

She felt like she led a zombie by the hand as she dragged Jonathan over the threshold. He had fallen quiet and still, eyes lost in the middle distance. Barb noted that his breathing was shallow and the color of his face had yet to return so she knew that the panic hadn't fully left his system. What had he experienced in that tree? Where had he gone?

Barb pulled out a dining room chair and Jonathan showed enough life to sit and fold up, elbows on knees, head low.

Without hesitating, Barb took the chair next to him and stroked his back. That seemed to help. His shoulders loosened a bit and the tremor in his hands went away. So she didn't stop. She even went one further and turned her chair to be in front of his, so that he could rest his forehead on her knees. She rubbed her flat hands in circles on his shoulder blades.

Steve and Nancy had locked the door and gone around closing curtains, chattering to each other about the impossible things they had just witnessed, both of them freely throwing out apologies to both Jonathan and Barb for ever doubting the monster. All the same questions which had for days now been plaguing Barb now spilled from the other two teens as they moved through the house, evidently collecting Mr Harrington's golf clubs and Mrs Harrington's best steak knives.

Jonathan had a white knuckle grip on the edge of the chair, still breathing shallow and shivering a little but with the new position some of that tension left him. Barb stroked his back, grimacing in disgust at the slime and inky black blood coating his clothes. Here, under the bulbs of the Harrington kitchen, it was even more disgusting than she thought. And her own clothes were ruined from how he had landed in her arms.

They both probably stank to high heavens.

Finally, Jonathan sighed and let go of the edges of his chair to hold Barb by the calves while he turned his head and rested it more fully on her lap.

Barb smiled.

Now she could see he had his eyes closed but his color was returning and the sheen of cold sweat had gone from his face. She was glad. That had been really scary for a second.

Just then Steve and Nancy came back to the kitchen. They both stopped at the sight of Jonathan hugging her legs, head in her lap. Barb caught each of the significant looks Nancy and Steve individually gave her. She ignored them and kept on at a steady and reassuring pace of soothing circles on Jonathan's shoulder blades.

She didn't care what it looked like--what it might mean. None of that mattered for now. She just wanted him to feel better. And, back when her big sister had had her panic attacks, her parents would do this until it passed. She'd seen it a hundred times.

She wasn't sure when she started stroking his hair. It was coarse and thick down to the warm roots.

“You both need a shower,” Nancy said. “Steve, do you have clothes Jonathan can wear?”

“Of course, babe. I’ll go grab something. Um--Barb, my mom is--" he chuckled a little and mimed a large woman. “So I don't know if anything she has would--”

“Your clothes will be fine for her too, Steve,” Nancy cut in. “Just sweats and stuff.”

“Right,” Steve hurried away.

“Feeling better Jonathan?” Nancy asked, taking a chair at the kitchen table.

He sat up, still a little pale. He wasn't out of the woods yet, so to speak. Nancy looked worried.

“A shower will do you good, Jon,” Barb said encouragingly. “Go on.”

He stood on shaky legs and followed directions to the bathroom upstairs.

“They have a bathroom down here, Barb, if you want to clean up now.”

“Thanks.”

Steve returned and handed her a bundle of clothes. Barb locked herself in the bathroom and showered. As she stood under the amazing water pressure, she grinned a little at how commonplace it had become for her to bathe in strange new places. Life was weird, man.

Monsters were real.

Nothing really surprised her anymore.

When the water turned suddenly icy, Barb realized she had stood under the spray for far too long. And it wasn't just shower water on her face.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Nancy was waiting in the hallway. Her lips pulled back in a greeting smile. “My curfew is soon. Steve is going to give you and Jon a ride, too.”

“Oh, good.”

Jonathan had evidently finished his shower promptly. He sat with wet hair hanging in his eyes, at the kitchen table with Steve. To Barb’s surprise they were shoulder to shoulder over a sketch pad. Steve was drawing with a pencil. Jonathan was squinting and trying to explain the mechanics of the monster’s jaw. Both boys had a lit cigarette in their mouths, filling the room with a haze.

Nicotine seemed to take that last edge off. Barb didn't need anymore of a reason. Like her mom always said, one every now and then couldn't hurt. It would settle her nerves. She helped herself to the pack and the lighter left on the table. Understandably, the other three stared, agape.

“Barb!” Nancy gasped.

“My first and last attempt at this had made me barf all over the driveway while my sister died laughing.” She lit up and mumbled around the bud, “None of you laugh.”

Steve crossed his heart during a deep drag. Jonathan dashed ash into the tray and watched her with a single shallow dimple of amusement.

Barb inhaled. This time, she coughed a little but got the hang of it fast. Jonathan’s dimple turned into a congratulatory smile. She and the boys all took a drag at the same time.

Nancy laughed and shook her head. “Do you like it?”

She bumped a shoulder and examined the pretty orange glow at the end of the paper. “I can see why Mom does it sometimes.”

“Okay, I want to try.”

Barb felt a flicker of guilt for having influenced Nancy, but with every drag came a rush through her body that prevented the guilt from lingering too long.

Nancy’s first inhale sent her coughing her head off and she gave up. “That's disgusting.”

The smokers each chortled and traded looks.

“I'm just having one once in awhile. When I really need one.” She declared. If Mom could do it, she could.

Jonathan stuffed his bud back in his lips and refocused on the sketchpad. Steve swept a hand over it to clear eraser dust.

Barb craned her neck and saw that so far Steve had managed to draw a pretty accurate picture of the body. It proved skill on both their parts; Steve for drawing and Jonathan for description.

“Hey. You could be a police sketch artist.”

Steve smiled a little shyly. “Yeah right. I can't draw humans for shit.”

“Well, not yet. I bet you will one day.” Barb said.

Steve looked up at her with a hint of surprise on his face. Nancy gave her a happy smile. It was a little like baby’s first word except all Barb had done was…. Well, all she had done was be nice to Steve Harrington for the first time.

“I'm having trouble describing the face.” Jonathan said with furrowed brow.

“That's because there isn't one,” Barb said. “Just teeth. It opens like… sort of like a flower. Four hinges that spring open.” Barb mimed a vicious blossom opening and snapping closed. The King of her nightmares.

Steve stared at the page a second and then began to sketch. Barb and Jonathan watched and nodded along, softly voicing alterations which Steve made promptly.

Within a few quiet minutes, they had it. Barb and Jonathan each looked hard at the picture, suppressed shudders of fear, and glanced at one another to be sure they hadn't let their imaginations run away from them. This was the thing that had nearly bitten Barb’s head off.

“There. That's it.” Jonathan said. “You can check it against the photo I have at home. This is the thing that ate my brother.”

“And tried to eat me.”

“And two hunters.” Steve announced, surprising the other three. “They went missing the night of the party, too. Just heard about it on the news this morning. Yet another reason to believe your story.”

“Don’t forget that Benny guy from the burger place.”

“They said it was suicide.” Nancy corrected. “You think they lied?”

“Maybe.”

Nancy looked frightened and then sighed. “Look. It's late. We have all been through a lot. We aren't thinking straight right now. We should all go home and try to rest. Don't you think?”

“Yeah. Need to get you back before curfew, too. Let's go.”

 

They dropped Barb off first. In the passenger seat, Jonathan felt a frightening bubble of anxiety swell in his chest as his new and only true friend got out of the car. But the girl went straight to his window and leaned down to peer inside. He lowered the glass to better see her gorgeous smile, and the look of caring and concern in her blue eyes made the bubble shrink back down.

“Have a good night, Jon. Call me if you want.”

“She has her own line so it won't wake her parents or anything.” Nancy said helpfully from the backseat. Barb smirked. “Yeah. So don't hesitate if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Barb.” Jonathan murmured, embarrassed for no particular reason.

“Goodnight, guys.”

Steve and Nancy both said goodnight to the redhead as Steve pulled away from the curb. Jonathan twisted to watch her make it into the house. As soon as her front door closed behind her, the reality settled in. He was alone with two new friends. Friends so fresh he had no idea what to say or how to act.

His mouth went dry and he barely moved. He wished he could have been the first dropped off. But then, no. Because the other three would have definitely talked about him. His stomach began to hurt.

“It’s kind of amazing,” Nancy said out of the blue, leaning up between the front seats. Both boys stirred out of deep thoughts. “How wrong people can be about someone. Jonathan, yesterday I thought you were a typical teenage boy with a typical family tragedy. But this whole time, you've been dealing with this, this... _monster_ and you knew no one would believe you.”

“Yeah. That had to be intense.” Steve agreed. “I don't know what I would have done.”

“Me either, if I had been alone.” Jonathan said. “But I've had Barb.”

Nancy grinned. “She's the world’s best friend. Count yourself lucky she picked you. I do.”

“Okay, Nancy-Pants,” Steve said as he turned onto her street. “We made it with minutes to spare.”

“Thank you!” She gave the boy a kiss and left the car. This time, Steve watched the girl go inside. Jonathan quietly began to fidget.

It was just him and Steve now. One on one never, ever went well with strangers. Jonathan always ended up saying something awkward that would haunt him for sometimes months on end. But he didn't think he could stand a smothering silence either.

“My house is really close to here,” he offered to fill the silence.

“Cool.”

What was he supposed to say? Jonathan had zilch. The typical conversation topics were useless after a monster sighting. Especially someone’s first. Maybe he should say something about the Faceless Thing and killing it. Talking like that with Barb always made him feel better and Steve had to be reeling from the experience.

“You're really brave, you know.” Steve said all at once.

“Huh?”

“The way you just dove into that nest, into some kind of other dimension like it was nothing. That.” Steve gulped and shook his head. “That took guts.”

“I just thought maybe my brother was in there. Somehow. I--i know it was crazy. I can't explain how it made sense.”

“Aliens crawl out of tree stumps now, and you’re afraid you are weird for having hope?”

Jonathan puffed a soft laugh. “Well, if you put it like that… Oh, turn here.”

Something about headlights sweeping over dark woods always felt creepy. Now, knowing what lurked in those woods, it was even creepier. Jonathan curled his fingers into fists, preparing himself. He couldn't sprint from the car to the front door like he wanted to. Not when Steve Harrington just called him brave.

He briefly wondered why he cared one whit what Steve Harrington thought.

“.....This is a really long driveway,” Steve said after a few seconds of the lonely lane creeping under the headlights. Jonathan didn't know what to say so just puffed another little nervous laugh.

“I would let Will drive it sometimes,” he suddenly confessed. “You know, on the way out to school or, or coming home.” His voice gave out. He swallowed hard and deflected thoughts away from a future without a teenage brother to pass his old junker car to.

Steve swung a slow fist over and thumped him on the shoulder. A solid, oddly comforting, whack of sympathy. Then they reached the house.

“Whoa. Cop car.”

Jonathan brightened just a little as some of the ever present worry for his mother fell away. “Hop is here.”

“Chief Hopper? You call him Hop?”

“My mom does. I don't really call him anything. We don't talk much, he’s just sort of always there when we need him.”

A flip book of memories from the last three or four years fanned through his mind. Mostly, it was different instances of car trouble in the middle of town, but once Hopper helped load a Christmas tree onto the roof of mom's car. And then of course, all of this stuff with Will….

“Have you told him about the monster?”

“Not yet. We need iron clad proof or he’ll just say we’re a bunch of kids making things up. That's why I'm going back out there tomorrow.”

“Hey, count me in. I need to know exactly what’s happening in my own backyard, you know? What time should we meet? And where?”

Jonathan put one foot out of the car and stopped. Steve was about to have to drive all the way home, alone, and then sleep in a great big empty house. The offer jumped from him before he had time to think better.

“If you stay here then we can start sooner.”

Steve looked shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan shrugged trying not to blush.  “Unless you can't or…. just don't want to. I'd get it.”

Steve looked away to laugh, then rubbed the bruise on his face. “If you're serious, okay. I...was _not_ looking forward to being home alone.”

An awkward beat fell, wherein Jonathan sat, mystified to have correctly guessed what someone else was thinking. And what's more, he even knew how to respond to the shy confession. He reached over and thumped Steve on the shoulder.

 

As they ascended the porch steps, Steve noted a tarp covering a hole in the wall. He had time to only frown at it before Jonathan lead him through the front door. Inside, the smells were totally different than the Harrington house. Cigarettes and dog and dust. Most of the lights were off, casting the room in shadow. Steve could make out that wires crisscrossed the ceiling and walls in a haphazard way. He recognized Christmas lights, but a closer look showed every single bulb missing and strewn in the floor and on table tops and in the couch and chairs.

Weird. Steve considered bailing. Maybe being alone in his normal house wouldn't be so bad after all. But the teen dismissed that thought as soon as he had it. Maybe because Jonathan seemed just as baffled by the light bulbs rolling under his worn out sneakers. The boy glanced back with a look equal parts embarrassed and apologetic.

Steve acted casual, like it was no big deal.

And hey, in a world with fanged flower faced monsters, most things were suddenly just that.

They moved toward a hallway. A single lamp burned in the kitchen, illuminating the dinner table where files and cigarette smoke obscured two adults sitting together, talking lowly.

The man was Chief Hopper in regular person clothes, and the woman was Mrs Byers, whom Steve recognized as the cashier at the local dollar store. She looked tiny next to the chief. Even in the space of just a few seconds as they passed, Steve could tell this woman brought her cigarette bud to her lips three times as often as Hop took a drag on his. She was like a frantic little coal train puffing away.

When the boys moved past the kitchen, both adults spared a glance in their direction. The staccato of their intense conversation skipped one beat, which Steve filled with a casual little wave. He recognized parents in the middle of very serious matters and expected Jonathan’s mumbled, “this’s Steve. He’s hanging here tonight” to be the beginning and end of it.

But the woman looked right at them and smiled warmly. She looked pale and thin, half eaten away by stress, but she stopped everything to greet her son and his new friend.

Chief Hopper tapped his cigarette over a mound of warm ash. “Ya’ll friends now?”

Steve laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Basically.”

The man chortled, but it seemed a little fake, a little put-on for their benefit. Steve detected a man with distractions that could not be put on hold for anyone, though he had the tact to try.

The adults resumed their chat, now in conspiratorial whispers. What were they talking about? Steve listened as he followed Jonathan  He caught odd words _(pictures_ and _stick figures_ ) but sensed that he couldn't linger to hear more. They would stop talking and start questioning, and Jonathan had reason to doubt they would believe such fantastical tales of monsters and hidden worlds.

They retreated to the bedroom and shut the door.

The dog jumped up for some attention. Steve gave it a good scratch and asked about the name tag. Jonathan explained in short sentences that made Steve grin. He had a hazy memory of, like, the second grade; when Jonathan was in his class and brought in an old copy of The Hobbit for show and tell, announcing that was the book he and his mom read to the new baby. Jonathan could remember being impressed by his classmate reading a big thick book with no pictures.

Under Steve's attention, the dog’s ears perked up, and his little eyes gleamed with love for the new boy already. Steve gave him a kiss to the head. The bushy tail wagged approvingly.

“Not much of a guard dog,” Steve said.

“Never meets a stranger,” Jonathan answered, then motioned to a sleeping bag in the floor. “You can sleep here.”

“Cool, thanks,” Steve moved to the designated area, noting the ashtray as he went. It had ashes and a bud in it. Out in the open for his mother too see and everything.

“Dude, your mom doesn't bust your balls about anything does she?”

Jonathan huffed and turned, eyes threatening little slits. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Well, just that, you’ve had Barb over for a while and now you strolled in late with a totally new friend and she didn't ask like _any_ questions. And,” he motioned to the ash tray. “You don't have to hide stuff like this. If my mom walked in and saw this in my room I’d be grounded for months. If a girl was to spend the night, I'd be straight up dead.”

Jonathan hummed, looking less mad as he turned toward his old record player. “Well, she was never thrilled about the smoking, but let it go when it was clear I wasn't going to stop unless she did. As for the other stuff--Barb and, and you. Well. She's got a lot going on right now. Trying to find Will.”

“Right.” Steve could kick himself. Duh. Of course the mother of a missing and possibly eaten-by-a-beast boy wouldn't sweat the petty stuff.

Jonathan gently lowered the needle and good tunes vibrated out of the speakers.

“Nice, I love this song.”

They let the music fill the silence for a full album before Steve broke the silence with an observation about the band. Jonathan fired back a well rounded opinion, and from there conversation was more than easy. Steve began to sense a diverse, hidden inner landscape to the stoic loner, one surprisingly mature. In fact, the longer they talked about life expressed through art, the more Steve felt he was not speaking to a boy, but a man.

Super weird.

Most days, he felt mature and considered himself a man, but that was totally based on superficial things like living alone most weeks of the year, having a car, an early admittance to college, and a summer job at the local paper. But his inner world was nothing to brag about--just a neatly concealed mound of fears and uncertainties and questions and doubts. That was why, whenever things got just a little too crazy in his head, he had to throw stupid parties and invite over pretty girls and just be dumb and have fun and let loose. He absolutely could not hold up the front forever. He looked forward to free time, to weekends, to parents leaving on business trips, because _then_ he could freaking relax. Reboot.

But Jonathan Byers? This guy worked year round to save for college and he went to school and yet he didn't ever need to cut loose. It blew Steve’s mind until he finally realized _how_ that could be.

Jonathan devoted all free time to hobbies like music and photography. The artsy stuff gave him the kind of emotional release partying sometimes gave Steve, but unlike partying, it also provided introspection and reflection on the real world. It prepared Jonathan for life beyond the present and immediate future, which was all Steve had the time and strength to worry about.

“You're a deep dude.”

Jonathan blushed. “Lot of good that does me. I'm miserable most days, but now missing my brother, the darkness is...it closes in a lot faster--and--” he abruptly stopped speaking, pressed on his eyes and heaved a sigh.

Steve lightly kicked Jonathan's foot. “I guess Barb keeps all that mess away, huh?”

A sheepish little nod made Steve grin crookedly. “Yeah, I figured. Actually saw you smiling at her earlier. Nancy says Barb's just that good at being there for a friend.”

“In a weird way, I-i’m almost glad she was attacked that night by your pool. Otherwise I would have never gotten to know her and,” he shrugged. “Just the thought of being swallowed by darkness…” he shivered. “Frankly, i’d prefer getting chomped by one of the monsters.”

This latest profound declaration made Steve’s breath catch in his chest. Could darkness really be that bad? He had taken the word to be a synonym for that typical lethargy of late adolescence; that regular little strop Steve fell into every couple of months where his childhood felt over and real life couldn't start yet and the in-between was boring and pointless and he couldn't wait to leave Hawkins for a fresh start. Sounded like Jonathan struggled with something much heavier; a real depression, now multiplied by real tragedy.

In a snap instant, just like that, Steve saw clearly why a quiet nice girl like Barb would change her behavior so drastically for this boy. He understood why she felt comfortable enough to spend the night with him three nights in a row. He understood why Jonathan would do the same for her. Some monsters in the world didn't have teeth or flesh. Just shadows in the mind that only things like art and friendship could wrestle.

Steve clapped him on the back and decidedly changed the subject. “What colleges are you looking at?”

“Oh. NYU. It’s my dream school. If I don't get in there then I'm not going anywhere.”

“I was the same with Yale. Thank God I'm already in.”

“What? Really?”

“Early admittance. I haven't told a lot of people. It feels weird. Like it's not real yet.”

“What do you want to study?”

“Journalism.”

As they talked about their hopes for college, they each settled against the headboard of the bed. Jonathan was in easy reach of the record player and Steve started playing with a rubik's cube from the nightstand. The puzzle helped settle his turbid mind enough for his eyelids to get heavy. Still talking about what life outside of Hawkins might hold, he rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

Jonathan fell quiet, turning up the stereo for his favorite song. Steve wasn't too familiar with it and listened to the lyrics. One line hit hard. His mind slingshotted into that honey-sweet world of Nancy Wheeler.

God, she was the best.

But ever since Tuesday night, things were different.

Before Steve knew it, words blurted out of his mouth. Things he had never said to anyone else. Like how he was in love. Really actually totally in love with Nancy Wheeler. And he knew this because he honestly did not mind waiting as long as it took for Nancy to do it again.

“That's pretty cool, man.” Jonathan said sincerely.

Tommy H would have been a dick about this touchy feely stuff. Jonathan Byers was truly a decent guy, and though awkward on the outside, strangely cool underneath the social issues.

“What's your favorite band?”

Steve listed the first thing he and Nancy had in common. Jonathan dug through his stack of records and put it on. It made Nancy feel closer. Steve tried to sing along but the words were jumbled on a leaden tongue. He stopped so as to not ruin it for Jonathan, and fell asleep before the end.

 

Disjointed nightmares about monsters and Will and his new friends finally came together in a rhythmic siren pulsing throughout all of Hawkins. Jonathan ran down streets covered in sticky vines, weird white flakes sticking to his hot face. He had to find his brother and his friends and Mom! Mom! Mom!

The sound of the bedroom door opening jarred him from the prison of terror. Jonathan jerked awake, found himself upright, against the headboard. Stiff. His mother stood in the crack of the door. She was dressed in clean clothes, hair combed. If not for the bags under her eyes and the person in bed next to him, Jonathan might have thought everything up to this point had been one long nightmare.

“Hi, sweetie,” Joyce whispered, big brown eyes sweeping over the guest of the house. Jonathan inched away from him, embarrassed to realize he had had his head on the pretty boy’s shoulder. Thank God he woke up first, and only Mom saw.

“I'm going somewhere with Hopper.”

Steve Harrington began to stir. Jonathan’s attention divided between that and her explanation of where and why. All of last night’s conversations came back to him in waves and maybe all of _that_ was a dream because-- _really_?

Did he just hang out with Steve Harrington and actually have... fun? The night of Will’s funeral? Maybe fun was a strong word. Super low key, very laid back _not_ misery-- which was basically the same thing, right?

Whatever the word for it, Jonathan felt better about it all. And by the look of his mom, Hopper’s presence had done the same for her.

“Okay, Mom. Love you.”

“I love you, sweetie. I'll be back soon.”

The sound of Hopper’s truck starting came through Jonathan’s window. Joyce kicked in gear and waved bye on her way out. Steve stretched and yawned. Jonathan rubbed his eyes and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do today.

Saturday so no school. Technically he could go back to work but did he want to? Was he ready? No. The mission wasn't complete yet. He couldn't let Will rest in peace until that monster and the hell it crawled from were erased from Hawkins.

But _how_?

“Breakfast?” Steve mumbled.

Jonathan nodded, catching his yawn, and led the way to the kitchen. The smell of Hopper’s Marlboro's still lingered in here. Jonathan started to crave a cigarette but put it off. Food first.

“Like eggs?”

“Pouched.”

Jonathan paused with egg half raised for a cracking against the pan. “I don't know how to make that.”

“It's easy. Here.” Steve plucked up his own egg, requested the right pan, and set to work. Jonathan made coffee and took a seat.

“If the monster only comes out at night, then what are we doing until then? We need a foolproof plan of attack. And only one gun and an old axe isn't good enough.”

“Have any ideas?”

The boys had breakfast and then used the new-new phone to call the girls and have them meet in town for Gear to catch and kill the monster. Nancy agreed to meet, but Barb hummed regretfully.

“I can't.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I wish but I don't think I can. My parents sort of expect me to hang here for the day, studying and doing chores.”

“Okay.”

Jonathan expected disappointment. He _missed_ Barb, so not getting to see her today should have sucked, right? But he hadn't been apart from her since they met and you know what they say about too much of a good thing… Space was good right now. He knew she was safe at her house with her family.

“You guys go on without me. I'll meet up tonight for the actual hunt, okay?”

Jonathan smiled. Even from across town, she still kept the darkness away just because he knew he could count on her for anything that really mattered.

“Okay. See you later.”


	14. Parental Advice

Her mom and dad both made happy exclamations when Barb came downstairs for breakfast. You’d think she just got back from war the way they greeted her with hugs and kisses and praise. Her stomach growled loudly. Remembering to eat was harder in a world with monster infestations, but the hardest part was sleeping. All night, she had tossed and turned with nightmares about accidentally falling into monster nests and never making it back out.

Even now in the warm, bright, sun filled kitchen, she shuddered at the thought of an extradimensional grave. Thank God Jonathan Byers had been by the pool that night. Otherwise….

“Mommy, this bacon is delicious!” She stuffed two strips in her mouth at once and her plate almost magically refilled. Such a stupid, little thing to be grateful for but how many times now has she almost never had bacon again?

“Six letters. African blood sucker.” Dad said over the crossword.

Barb snapped her fingers and swallowed the mouthful of food with a gulp of milk. “Steste.”

He frowned. “How on Earth do you spell that?”

“S-T-E-S-T-E.”

Checking that it fit, he beamed with pride. “That’s my girl.”

“They use that one a lot.”

“What are your plans today, sweetie?” Mom asked as casual as anything. It was the way Dad only _pretended_ to ponder the next crossword clue that gave it away. They wanted to know about her and Jonathan Byers. She sensed a cautionary lecture prepared between them both. Not good.

She shrugged. “The usual. Studying. Chores. Studying some more. I got seriously behind this week. The test is the day after tomorrow.”

Her stomach turned at the realization and she nearly lost her breakfast. The only thing that stopped her own panic attack was knowing that the chemistry test wasn't the most important thing in the world. She would study for it and do her best but her real focus remained on the danger her best friends were in.

A monster lurked in the woods between Steve and Nancy and Jonathan’s houses. People were being eaten and the military was covering it up and people had to know the truth. But a group of kids couldn't exactly accuse the US Government of a conspiracy without cold hard proof.

“Want help with the flashcards?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, that'd be great!”

Dad tapped his pen on the puzzle. “Okay. Is the dark half of the Chinese Symbol Ying or Yang?”

Barb and her mother gave different answers and a debate started on whether it was indeed pronounced Ying or was just Yin. They shared lots of laughter and Barb was glad to be home. She had missed this without even knowing it.

After going through the flashcards once with Mom and missing more than she liked, she went upstairs for hard core studying. Her mind more or less stayed focused on the task at hand. Occasionally, she caught herself wistfully remembering the sweet, calming buzz of that cigarette she’d had at Steve's house.

No. She didn't need one. She just needed to study.

If she didn't study now, while she still had the chance, then she would seriously hate herself on Monday. The importance of test scores had shifted so that getting a perfect score no longer mattered, but she still had to pass the stupid thing. If she got her first F it wouldn't matter the circumstances; she'd feel like total crap.

Her private line rang around ten. She answered, expecting Nancy.

“Hey, Barb. It's Jonathan.”

“Oh. Hi!” She sat upright, heart weirdly racing. The cloud of chemistry facts broke up, replaced with whirling concerns for the Byers family. Particularly the intense eyes and sweet smile of one Jonathan Byers. Did he need help? Was Joyce in bad shape? Her tongue stiffened. She had no idea how to ask.

Luckily, he got right to the point. “Um. Me and Steve and Nancy are going to go buy some gear to catch the monster and kill it. Want to come?”

So not an emergency. She hummed. “I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I wish but I don't think I can. My parents sort of expect me to hang here for the day, studying and doing chores. You guys go on without me. I'll meet up tonight for the actual hunt, okay?”

“Okay. See you later.”

She hung up feeling down. Planning an official, fully equipped monster hunt sounded way more satisfying than reading over the same Chemistry chapters again and again. Not to mention it would probably just be _fun_ with the whole gang there.

She took a break from the books and helped Mom around the house. Then she grabbed some encyclopedias. She couldn't help select weapons and traps, but she could help from home. Time for some research on basic predator/prey strategies. After all, to catch a monster, you had to think like one….

Just after two that afternoon, the phone rang again. Barb rolled away from her stack of books and answered hanging upside down from the edge of the bed.

“Barb!” Nancy said loudly. Her voice had an edge of panic but sounded breathy. That classic wry Wheeler humor laced her following statement. “Good thing you weren't here. The guys got arrested!”

She slid off the bed onto her head and shoulders. Her glasses went askew and the cord dragged the phone off onto her too. “What? Ow!”

“Barb? Oh my god, what was that?”

“Ow. Mmm.” She adjusted her glasses and rubbed her rug burned elbow. “I fell off the bed. Yeesh. What do you mean they were _arrested_?”

“I mean cops and handcuffs and the whole deal.”

“Nancy. What _happened_?”

Nancy launched into a story about gathering all the weapons they could get their hands on and how it lead to the boys sneaking into the quarry operations building to steal some dynamite. Naturally, the cops came and things got a little out of hand. Now Nancy was sitting in the police station while Steve and Jon were being booked. They had at least managed to keep Nancy out of trouble.

“Okay. I'm on my way.”

Barb hung up and had on her shoes with purse in hand before it even occurred to her that there wasn't anything she could actually _do_ at the station. But she had to be there for her friends. Arrests did not look good on college applications.

Her father sat in a recliner, watching the news while eating a midday snack.

“Hey, kiddo, where ya headed?”

“I’m meeting Nancy at the library for a study session. Can I borrow your car? I left mine at school again.”

“Okay. Drive carefully out there, kiddo. I just heard of a van flipping on Maple Street.”

This slowed her down. “Whoa. Really?”

“There are some lunatic drivers out there. Flipping a van on a residential street--miracle he didn't kill anyone.”

Barb agreed. Nothing like that ever happened in Hawkins. Just like Benny’s alleged suicide. Something felt off.

“I'll be careful.” She pecked his cheek and hurried out.

Did the monster somehow flip a van? No probably not. After all, it wasn't a monster that put a bullet in Benny’s head, which meant the government was operating in the area. Somehow _they_ were responsible for that crash. But doing what? Chasing who?

People who knew too much?

Chills rippled up her arms. Steve and Jon being in police custody doubled on the trouble-meter. If that army guy was keeping tabs, then Jonathan lying about being Steve Harrington would come out. And if they were shooting guys and flipping vans, then what would they do to already-proven-to-be recklessly rebellious teenagers?

  


Jonathan leaned against Officer Callahan's desk with his cuffed hands laced together. He was in deep trouble but not alone. Nancy had gone to make a call. Steve slouched in the other chair, cuffed and jittery.

Jonathan wondered why the boy had followed him over the security fence when he didn't have to. Obviously Steve had not been thinking beyond Destroying the monster anymore than Jonathan, or else one of them might have considered the spot at Yale.

Would this cause him to lose it?

Still, Jonathan was grateful Steve had been there. This, plus last night, plus the monster sighting, plus their fight at the quarry; it was starting to add up. They had been through a lot together, stuff others couldn't begin to understand. Sort of like war buddies.

“What did ya need dynamite for?” Callihan asked.

Steve’s lips parted, ready to spill every last detail. Jonathan spoke first. “To blow stuff up.”

The anxiety retreated in Steve’s eyes. He smirked and adopted Jonathan’s more stoic expression. “Yeah.”

Callihan all but rolled his eyes. “You boys could have killed yourselves.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Whatever.”

Annoyed and grumbling about rebelling teens, the deputy walked away. Jonathan eased back in his chair.

Steve stuck the tip of his tongue out with a nose wrinkling smile. “Dude, you were so cool just now. It's like you just don't give a shit.”

“I don't need to explain myself to him. Fuck what he thinks. When Hopper gets here, he’ll understand.”

Steve nodded curtly, hair flopping into relieved eyes.

The station doors wafted open. Grandma Harrington rushed inside shrieking up a storm. Steve started apologizing and explaining while the old woman continued to yell. She didn't seem like an awful parent, just a frantic grandmother more confused and frightened than pissed off. Nancy appeared and began defending the accused, but whether that helped or not was still unclear.

Jonathan gave his friend a sympathetic yet grateful nod. The Harringtons shuffled deeper into the station for the paperwork.

Nancy collapsed in Steve’s vacated seat.

“Will your mom be pissed?”

Jonathan shrugged and began to pick at his thumbnail. Mom hadn't answered the phone for his one call, so she probably wasn't back from that trip with Hopper yet. Callihan had said he would radio the chief to get the message to her.

He hadn't meant to go and tell tales about who Hopper took day trips with but it all just sort of happened. Jonathan tried to ignore the Looks the deputies gave each other when they heard their boss was MIA with Joyce Byers. If they only knew that she only cared about finding Will, those Knowing Smirks would drop.

Jonathan wondered how far Hopper went with her plan to get a dead boy back. Surely he would have had to reason with her a little. Man, he hoped things went well….

The doors swept open a second time, and Barb Holland entered like a nervous mouse. Nancy sprang up to meet her halfway. Jonathan stayed seated, glanced at the cops, wary of punishment for wandering.

He couldn't believe she came all the way down here for this. Having Nancy’s silent support was one thing. Having Steve’s company while hopping a fence was another. But getting yet more proof that Barb would be here for him in moments of need was something else.

A frog in his throat made it hard to breathe. His body felt weird, mainly in the chest. A bizarre urge to check his hair overtook him. Never in his whole life had he felt the need to check his reflection more than once in the morning. He swept it out of his eyes, had to lift both cuffed hands to do so, and felt like a total spaz.

“Hi. Um. Thanks for coming.”

Barb dragged a spare chair over and sat beside him. “Hey, of course. Are you kidding? I had to see if you’re okay. Nancy said you punched one of the cops.”

Her eyes zeroed in on his swollen, bloodied knuckles. Jonathan hid them below the desk. “It was stupid. I shouldn't have. Now it's even worse...”

“Why did you punch him again?”

“He did it so Steve could get away.” Nancy praised.

Barb beamed at him.

“A lot of good it did. He got arrested anyway.”

“A for effort.” Barb lightly punched his shoulder. Jonathan smiled a little. She looked around the station. “I was afraid Joyce would be a wreck. I guess I beat her here. Good. I can help keep her calm.”

He nodded with a soft smile. “I appreciate that. She's been through too much lately. I can't believe I let this happen.”

“It’ll be okay.” Barb rubbed circled on his back.

He leaned a fraction closer, warmed by her soft curves. That tricky darkness had gone and tucked in around him without his notice, sapping warmth. Having friends around had kept the inner lights from shutting off, at least, though it flickered now the more he thought about how this would affect his mother.

“No, this is bad. I'm eighteen and I have an arrest on my record. I promised her I wouldn’t be like him.”

“Whoa. Don't be crazy. You are nothing like Lonnie.”

Nancy looked lost.

“His dad.” Barb whispered in an aside.

Jonathan glanced at the other girl, unsure if he should get into all right now. On one hand, friends shared this kind of stuff. On the other, he didn't have the strength when it wasn't wholly necessary. Barb understood. That was all he needed.

Nancy nodded, sensing the privacy of the topic, and slipped off in Steve's direction. Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose.

In the safe space behind his eyelids, the world dropped away but for a dull throb in his knuckles and Barb’s continuous back rub. He focused on the steady rhythm of the circles until he calmed down.

“That military guy hasn't shown up around here, has he?” Barb asked, craning to see far corners of the floorplan.

Jonathan opened his eyes with a frown of curiosity. “No. Why?”

“Because he thinks you are Steve Harrington. If they were working with the police at all, then you'd have been caught in a lie and who knows what would have happened next.”

He blinked. Stunned. The scenario she described was awful. Enough to have sent him into a doozy of a panic attack had it occurred to him a minute sooner than this. But the circles and the warm half hug kept him grounded. This horrible idea was just that--an idea. A What If that didn't play out.

“I guess the military isn't coordinating with the local police force.”

“Which is good for us.”

Barb nodded with feeling and for some reason, it just made him want to laugh. The whole world was so screwed up, all he could do was laugh at it. She double looked him, but snickered too.

They broke down into church like giggling, stifling the inappropriate sounds behind fists. Roses filled Barb's cheeks. Tears of merriment seeped from Jonathan's eyes. He dabbed them away with a thumb and sniffed.

“I like your laugh,” she said.

“I like yours.”

Her blue eyes caught his gaze as he said it, and the simple little confession turned into this pregnant thing. What was _happening?_ Jonathan felt like he was going insane. This friendship suddenly felt like, maybe, it could deepen even more. Into what?

Though mature in some matters of an unfair, unjust world, Jonathan actually had no _real_ definitions for this new potential. All he had were abstract concepts he understood best through songs and acclaimed photography. As such, this felt exactly like looking into the eyes of his Escape World personified.

Trippy.

  


For Barb, the compliment struck deeper than expected. It made her belly flutter. She suddenly felt nervous, a little lost. Friendship she knew inside and out. But more than that? Unknown territory. A test with no flashcards.

Just then, the station doors opened. Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers entered and made a beeline for Jonathan. Callihan reported to his boss the circumstances of the arrest while Joyce shrieked for the handcuffs to be removed. The deputy freed Jonathan but defended his choice of detainment by presenting the box of various weapons confiscated at the scene of the crime.

“He said they were going to blow stuff up.” Callihan said derisively.

Jonathan met the chief's gaze confidently. Hopper’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of stuff?”

“Monster stuff.”

Hopper’s face darkened. “Okay, in my office. Now.”

He ushered the three of them into his office and shut the door. “Start at the beginning.”

Jonathan launched straight into it, starting all the way back at the pool. Barb jumped in with details he forgot to cover, and together they finally managed to get everything out in the open. Monsters. Military secrets. Other Places hidden in tree stumps. Joyce concurred the existence of the creature that crawled out of her living room wall.

Just like Jonathan had been insisting since day one, the Chief demanded proof. But, surprisingly, he did so calmly, with the eyes of a believer simply covering his bases professionally.

Barb deflated, but Jonathan reached into the box for his bag. He had the photograph--and the sticky shirt covered in monster blood.

She smiled triumphantly. “There! See?”

The chief looked at it, then studied Jonathan and Joyce in turn. “Okay.”

“I need to talk to you,” Joyce said to her son. She dragged him into the hallway. The door clicked shut and sounds of a worried mother drifted through the wood.

“Where were you during all this dynamite business?” Hopper asked Barb.

“I wasn't there. I was home, studying for a test. Nancy called and told me what happened, so I came down to help explain.”

One corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “All the way down here for a boy, huh?”

Heat flared on her cheeks. “No. We’re just friends…” Barb trailed off, hearing herself echoing Nancy from last week. Uck. What a mess. “I don't know…”

With Joyce and Jonathan in the hallway, it was safe enough to voice her feelings. Hopper cared about the Byers, so that made him and her kindred spirits. Plus, she needed a man’s perspective and no way could she ask her dad without him panicking over what might be nothing. A friend’s almost dad would have to do.

“We _are_ friends. We haven't kissed or anything like that. In fact, he says he doesn't even like girls. And I didn't even like boys--” here Hopper’s frown furrowed. Barb plowed on before banal questions could be asked. She needed this Thing off her chest. “Except. I guess maybe that's changing? I think I like him _like that_. Am I crazy? Do you think he like-likes me back?”

“Well--uh.” Hopper stiffened, voice frozen in his throat. She had clearly caught him off guard with this. He rubbed the back of his head. “He said he doesn't like girls?”

Barb rolled her lips. Oops. Well, she couldn't just leave it at that. “Well, it's just that he is like me a-and dating and all that has always seemed strange. We never felt really normal? But now, for me at least, things might be changing and before you got here there was this moment? and it seemed like…. But maybe I'm just imagining things.”

Hopper’s voice crackled as he struggled for another agonizing four seconds. Then, all at once, he sagged. His eyes closed as if a familiar ache washed over him. The corner of his mouth tilted.

“I never had a teenage daughter. But, uh, one thing I was ready to tell her, when she was old enough, was Boys….” He looked over at her with this kind of squint of deep thought. “Mostly, they’ll say whatever a girl wants to hear. Maybe Jonathan doesn't like girls or maybe he said it to win ya over. Be careful, okay?”

Barb blinked rapidly as this insider information settled over her. Boys just say what girls want to hear…. That lined up pretty well with her dad’s warning that boys could be persuasive…. Was Jonathan playing some kind of game this whole time?

Part of her worry probably registered on her face because Hopper straightened. “You okay?”

“Uh--yeah,” Barb shook it all off and forced a smile. “Thanks. I really needed a guy’s opinion. My dad would have just freaked.”

“Hey,” Hopper settled against his desk with this conspiratorial light in his eye. “Anytime. You’re good for him. You seem like a strong team. Just try and use your brains and stop going to that damn quarry, picking fights and stealing dynamite.”

“Okay, I was _not_ a part of the dynamite heist. I would have talked sense into them.”

He chuckled as the office door swung back open. Jonathan slunk in like a cat out of the rain. His eyes were wet. Joyce stayed put, big brown eyes landing on Barb.

“Your turn, Missy.”

Barb jolted. She had never been called missy before. Hopper hummed like she had to go see the principle. It made Jonathan’s frown shift into a quiet grin. Barb hurried to meet Joyce in the privacy of the hallway, and shut the door behind her.

“First of all,” Joyce said firmly. Barb braced for some sort of verbal lashing. Instead, Joyce crushed her in a tight hug. “You are such a good girl! Thank you for everything. Jonathan just told me how much you've actually been here for him, for us, and-and it's too much to ever repay. Barb Holland, you are a Godsend.”

“Stop. I'm doing what any friend would do.”

“I know. And it warms my heart to know my boy has a friend like you. I worry about Jonathan. He's such a loner. If he hadn't found you when he did--who knows how he would be handling this whole mess.”

They hugged again.

“Can I ask you something? Woman to woman?”

Joyce’s eyes managed to get even bigger. That same light from Hopper’s eyes glimmered. “Let’s hear it.”

Barb groaned. “When you were my age, did sex freak you out?”

“I didn't know enough about it, to be honest. I sort of fooled around just to get answers, and wound up in trouble. That's why I've been real blunt with the boys.”

“Jon’s very level headed about it. He’s, like, the first person my age who gets that sex isn't everything.”

“Good! That’s good. You shouldn't be in a hurry to grow up so fast. Sex isn't what it's cracked up to be. It takes someone special to make it special. So here’s advice I wish my mother had given me: be friends first, and be honest. If it's right, it’ll happen. Don't force anything.”

Barb hugged her. “Thanks, Joyce.”

Loud voices drifted from the front of the building. An angry woman had begun arguing with the deputies. Flo stuck her head around the corner.

“CHIEF!”

Hopper came out of his office. “What now?”

 


End file.
